Rise From The Ashes:

Chapter 6:

Breaking Limbs

November 8th, XX21 : Age 20 : Twins' HQ

Crack!

The pain was what woke him up, though the sound of his right leg being snapped like a twig probably helped. Searing, stabbing pain as his leg was twisted in a way it never should've been able to move. He let out a strangled yelp of pain, and a finger came up to his lips. His breathing came out in shallow gasps as he tried to control himself. He didn't want to show any weakness in front of these people. But the tears welling up in the corners of his coffee brown eyes, once alive and defiant in the face of all troubling circumstances, weren't so easily reined in. They trailed down his cheeks, falling down to the cold, metal seat he was lying in right now. A seat that reminded him strangely of a dentist's chair. The woman brushed away his tears in a strangely motherly fashion.

"Shhh," a sweet, serene voice whispered. The heart-shaped face of a pretty, red-haired woman came into view. "I am so sorry, my darling. It will only take a second. Like ripping off a band-aid, yes?"

Screw that shit! This hurt way more than a band-aid. Still, he found a way to answer her. Found a way to let anger boil inside him even as the shooting pain in his leg hogged all his senses. Natural painkillers tried to do their part, but it persisted. However they broke his leg, they made sure it was the most harmful way possible. He took one shaky breath and blinked away any incoming tears.

"Victoria Volkov, I presume?" he said, voice surprisingly composed. The blond realized, with some satisfaction, that he wasn't scared of them. Not in the slightest and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps he was going insane due to an underlying sense of panic?

The woman turned away, shuffling some things on the cart beside her.

"That is correct," she answered, her thick accent on full display. "I'm the twin of Vladimir Volkov. We are here to help you."

He almost scoffed out his response. "Help me?"

"Yes," she said, flicking the clear syringe in her hand, "to deliver you to your destiny."

"My destiny is to be turned into ashes?" he asked, not bothering to keep his contempt out of his voice. He wanted her to know exactly how he felt about them. I hate. I've hated you for the past seven years. I want you to be exterminated from this Earth and burn in hell where you belong. Burn in hell like my parents and grandparents and friends burned seven years ago. Feel their pain, imagine their terror, smell their flesh. I want it to be the only thing you have. I want it to torment you in the same way it's tormented me.

She laughed, and it was a bell-like peal of laughter. "No, darling. Your destiny is not to be turned into ashes. It is to rise from them, as a pure being, cleansed from all those silly human desires."

"Lemme guess, I have to die first," he whispered, voice hoarse. Were his parents a part of this psychotic theory as well? "I have an idea. Why don't you cleanse yourselves instead?"

"Ah, but then who would cleanse all the others?"

"You're insane."

She pushed back his bangs with a tender, motherly look in her eyes. "No, darling, it is the world that has gone insane. This is the only cure."

Kurapika opened his mouth to reply, but then she stuck the end of the needle in his arm, and the sedative sent him off into a dreamless slumber.

"Alright, on to the next leg," he heard her say, right before all his senses were drowned in darkness.

He wouldn't wake for another few hours. And the next time he woke, he couldn't move, couldn't even open his eyes, but his hearing worked just fine and by the sound of it, Vlad had joined them. Assuming the twins really worked alone.

"Four sevens and a ten," he heard Vlad's gruff, male voice say, the sound of cards fluttering down onto what Kurapika suspected was the wooden desk he'd caught in the corner earlier.

The woman giggled gleefully. "Seems I won again, brother."

The man sighed, "so you have. How is it you win every match we have ever played, Vicky? You are cheating?"

"It seems I simply have better luck than you, brother," she answered, smugly. "Is it almost time?"

"Yes."

"Is everything ready?"

"The cabin is waiting to be lit."

"And the boy?"

"He will be out for a few more hours. I broke both his legs and one arm. He will not be leaving anytime soon."

Ha! He was awake! In your face, evil pyroman- wait, both his legs? He felt nothing though. Even with the strongest painkiller, there'd be some slight discomfort. Instead, he couldn't seem to feel anything. His entire body felt numb, like it wasn't even there.

"And if Lucilfer finds out?"

"He will not be able to do anything anyhow," she said, shifting cards by the sound of it. "The boy is dead either way."

"What do you mean?"

"Either the fire will end him, which is more likely, no doubt, or the paralyzing agent will."

Silence, and then, "you are truly the daughter of our mother."

"I even used the same type she used on father."

"J-321?" He sounded so proud it almost made Kurapika sick to his stomach. Out of disgust or uneasiness, he didn't know.

"The one and only. It will stop his heart in less than two days."

So, fire wasn't their only weapon. They also liked putting dangerous chemicals in other people.

"He is rather feisty," the woman giggled. "I had fun talking to him today. Intelligent, as well. I can see why Chrollo is so interested in him."

The man coughed a bit. "That is to be expected. He is a pure soul."

He'd show them his pure soul when he's done carving out their hearts and putting them in decorated jewelry boxes! Goddammit, they were making a fool of him!

"When you say Lucilfer is interested in him, you don't mean to say -"

"Of course," the woman smiled. "Though I am certain he'll get bored easily, as he always does. To be honest, I suspect he has got a thing for blondes."

"Can not argue with that. What happened to the other one?"

"If I recall correctly, she was left with an exuberant amount of money and no apology. She did not leave her house for weeks though. He is lucky he didn't have that country's army after him. That woman was a reputable Countess before he walked into her life."

"Poor girl. Should've known, though. Lucilfer leaves everything broken."

"And enjoys it too. And he thinks we are bad."

"Indeed, at least we never built a relationship with someone and broke it off without another word."

Kurapika would've rolled his eyes if he could open them. They killed people with fire. Leaving a few broken hearts behind him certainly wasn't the worst thing he could do. And no, he certainly wasn't disappointed at the fact that Chrollo had a track record of leading people on! He never liked him anyway. Their relationship was completely professional.

"It's time," said Vlad, and he heard a chair screech across the floor.

"Already? I didn't get to win again yet," the woman complained. There was no chair screeching this time so Kurapika figured she was probably still sitting.

The man coughed again. "Yes, Vicky. We must go before the moon starts to set."

And here was where the panic set in. The reality of his situation that somehow didn't become apparent when his leg had been broken by the woman. Because really, Kurapika didn't want to die. He was just willing to put it on the line if it meant killing his family's murderers. Kurapika really, really didn't want to die. And especially not at the hands of these two lunatics. He had things he still wanted to do. Finishing college, getting back together with Pairo because he knew that man was just being overly emotional, and most of all, avenging his family. He couldn't die. Not now. Not yet.

Chrollo. Surely, he'd come for him. He wasn't going to die. Who knew? Maybe he'd find a way out. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to make it out without anyone else's help.

Who was he kidding? Chrollo could be halfway across the country, and, like they said, his interest in him was shallow and temporary. He couldn't rely on it to save him. That thief had made it obvious that he expected and accepted his imminent death. As for being saved by his own wit and resourcefulness, even Kurapika knew he wouldn't be able to think his way out of this one. He wasn't a psychic. He was entirely paralyzed from head to toe.

So, this was it? He was just going to die like this? Without anyone ever really knowing what happened to him other than that man and these two? And . . . Pairo, Gon, Killua, Leorio, Melody, the only people who truly meant something to him . . . they wouldn't know anything. Would they think he'd up and left? Abandoned them? Would they be worried? Would they look for him and dig up only ashes? Would Chrollo tell them eventually? Would he care enough? Would he be remembered or would he fade away into the back of their minds to be seen only in dusty old photo albums? Did he want them to remember? To suffer the way he did when he lost his family? To find out about his murderers and seek revenge the way he did?

The answer was a resounding no, but it didn't matter. He was dead either way. What happened afterwards was out of his realm of control. Death was all that awaited him. Maybe, death wouldn't be so bad? He couldn't feel anything now, not his broken legs or arm, so his burning flesh would be no different. He'd probably suffocate before that in any case. It was far from quick and painless, sure, but it felt almost fitting for him to meet the same fate as his parents and grandfather and all the neighbors he'd met in that apartment building.

A small selfish part of him was almost happy. Happy that he would be seeing them again soon, after all these years. That selfish part felt relief as he was put in a car and driven somewhere. As a door swung open and shut behind him. As he heard the flames that would soon engulf his entirety in its roar.

Kurapika smelled the smoke, and his brain told him to stop breathing it in. It held out for less than a few seconds until the blond gave up. He didn't want his last moments to be moments of struggling. That was all he'd done ever since they burned that building: Struggle. Struggle and suffer and crave for a past life that seemed like nothing more than a dream but burned in his mind like the fire he'd die to tonight. He was ready. And, as he bid his goodbyes to the world, he didn't feel regret or hatred or any of the emotions that clawed at his stomach and clogged up his throat.

And he thought that, in the end, it was an okay ride, if you ignored the whole orphaning business. He'd met Pairo and fallen in love with him. He'd met Leorio, Gon, and Killua and found a friendship he never thought he'd find. He met some guy named Chrollo, and for a few seconds, was able to let down his guard completely and let someone see the ugly parts of himself. The angry, violent, vengeful side that he hid from Pairo and the rest. Yes, he had no regrets.

That wasn't true though. He had regrets. He regretted not telling him what an idiot he was. Pairo, not him. Kurapika was physically incapable of being anything less than a genius. He regretted being so rude to Leorio and never finally telling Killua to just ask Gon out already, because really, who did he think he was fooling? He regretted not asking Chrollo more about his past, because above all, he'd wanted to learn more.

He regretted not being able to live a little longer and a little happier.

It was true, then. You couldn't get everything you wanted in the end. In the end, he ended up with nothing but the broken heart he'd always had.

. End of Chapter .

A/N: Kurapika doesn't wanna die, 'kay? It's more acceptance than anything. You're on your deathbed, you'd rather be accepting of the fact than struggle like the past, I don't know, eight years? Also, I know nothing of paralyzing agents or how they work. He probably shouldn't be able to hear them, or maybe his heart should've stopped right away. I don't care. This is fanfiction, not a scientific research essay.

Question of the Day: Too depressing? Too much? Too little?