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Requiem of Fate

Summary:

A novel tale of how incidentally, the ever devote and loyal Kurapika and the lawless, cold and criminal mastermind, Chrollo Lucifer come to realize just how intertwined and linked their lives really are.

Notes:

Chapter 1: Extirpating Shadows

Summary:

Kurapika's dreams continue to haunt him, leaving him feeling less and less at peace then he did after the harrowing incident that took place at Yorknew. Now he seeks the answers as to why he feels like a phantom of his past keeps plaguing his very existence.

Notes:

This is actually my second attempt at a novel - the first one was a complete and total travesty, so I am trying an entirely different route for fanfiction writing. This story is part of a series that has two other connecting fics and will eventually come with a series of oneshots as well. For now, there is no defined chapter limit as I am really unsure of how long this will take to complete. Originally, I had contrived the idea of doing a 'living fic' which is a story based off a Role Play with no immediate predetermined ending and will continue until the ending is reached. So for now, there is no definite chapter limit and will be complete once the end goal is achieved via RP and converted to fic format.

On another note - the direction I am taking this story is based on the differences in personality type with RoF Kurapika to his anime/manga counterpart. So expect the plot flow to be happening for a very specific reason.

Chapter updated and revised - 5/6/19.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text


 

 

                                                     

 


 

Requiem of Fate

 

Chapter one: Extirpating Shadows

 

 

 

 

 

It’s that dream again. Cold and callous eyes, a chafing and caustic laugh, along with swirling shadows twisting in hideous tendrils form a treacherous and morbid scene, leaving elongated, merciless fingers to grip deep into one’s being. A silent scream grips the heart, and it leaves only a breathless remnant. It’s always the same vision. Repetitive, despairing, the coiling darkness like elongated shadows that seem to reach consistently, and its dismal call forever haunting one nearly into the depths of eternity.

 

The experience is suffocating, which causes the throat to cinch and burn, leaving that sense of paralysis, and unable to move as those calculating, burning eyes dig abyssal into the very soul.  

 

It always starts out the same with someone standing just outside the entrance to a grand archway, though its surface had long since cracked and chipped away by the wicked hands of time. Crawling vines and ivy had long since overtaken its intricate surface, a proclamation of its initiation into the surrounding lush forest. A lone figure surveys its remnants, observing what had degraded so long ago while bathed in the slowly setting sun looking taken aback. For a moment, the person is hesitant and appears reluctant to proceed forth past the beckoning archway, seemingly terrified of what lies beyond.

 

A whisper echoes through the canopy of trees, its gentle caress like that of the frigid wind as it whisked through short, aurulent locks and swept them back to reveal vibrant cerulean eyes that harbored uncertainty, almost as if they caught within the budding throes of utter dread.

 

Moments tick to what feels like an eternity and soon the figure motions forth, though the canter is unhurried, steps slow and indecisive while moving towards a destination the person knows will most surely cause an upsurge of more suppressed and unforgotten pain.

 

Still, onward they press, traversing the winding path of a marble stairway which had collapsed through the years, the luster fading away and leaving behind only but a distant memory. The figure clutched their chest as a heavy laden sensation caused them to seize momentarily before sharply exhaling while gripping to the trunk of a tree for support. A soft whimper faltered into the silence as if life had ceased to exist and it took moments before the person was stable enough to progress forward, finally reaching the apex of what destiny seemed to have proclaimed so long ago.

 

Shells. So many of them, empty and charred, hollow foundations with jutted and broken timber, corrosion and decay having staked its claim, leaving nothing but washed away dilapidated remains in its wake. The vision of despair was clear in within the imagery which painted a scene of something horrific, something maligned, the ending disaster only wove a tale of the catastrophic event that took place.

 

Slowly the figure was treading forward, eyes seeming to harbor a baleful sadness as revisions of unwanted and torturous memories came flooding back to mind, and their fists clenched in an almost white-knuckled grip while crystalline droplets threatened to fall unbidden from now sheltered eyes. Almost as if in mirrored connection, the sky turned a sudden ashen gray, covering up the once vibrant beauty of the setting sun to deploy angry thunderheads, as the earth appears to feel the figures growing dolor. Its outcry almost matched the emotion displayed as a soft deluge began to tumble down upon the person who had collapsed to the ground, seeming to have lost all strength and composure.

 

Soft cries and weeping could be heard echoing throughout the surrounding foliage, and the mournful din was a constant reminder of the pain and suffering long since endured. Even the remembrances of that one fateful night when the revelation had finally come to pass where realization struck like a mallet to an anvil brought an understanding that coming back only reopened so many old wounds. It was then, however, the person found the strength to move on.

 

Even as the wracking sobs tore through the intemperate figure as they remained crumbled upon the ground, shoulders trembling with each shaky breath taken; there was no denying the aspect of unrequited lament that they were forced to endure. Everything around them was a constant reminder of just what had been ripped away and so callously taken without so much as remorse or care. Even as their head arose, blond tresses swaying within the chilled breeze, it was apparent that there was no happiness or solace to be found, only shattered memories of what could have been. Slowly the figure stood up on shaky legs and progressed forward, though albeit erratic, and stopped just short of a large building decorated in gaudy appearing colors, its thatched roofing had given in and caved so long ago.

 

It was almost insufferable, even as the flashbacks replayed to happier times of a lush and vibrant garden where bountiful varieties of food had begun to grow while a gentle and pretty woman with a tranquil aura about her was tending to the plants as if they were her very own children. She had fathomless and loving eyes with a tender smile adorning pure lips, the vision of utter grace while she hummed a familiar tune. It was almost as if it was yesterday when those eyes had landed upon them, though her attention was on a small child who ran about the field while giggling and jaunting around happily. Large sapphire blue eyes regarded the woman with complete and utter joy.

 

It was a forlorn memory, even as the very essence of it seemed to bring back nothing but remembrances of exactly what could have been. Every notion of that vital knowledge seemed to entice only seething rage and trepidation, bordering again on the verge of total relapse as so many years of pent up hostility and disgust came raging to the surface and one of the figure’s hands balled into a fist.

 

The thunderheads clapped in the sky above causing the brew to become more prevalent, and the sound of melancholy reverberated through the area. It was a dismal portrayal of something so far gone, so lost, that such was gone forever.

 

Even as the figure kneeled, tension and reluctance evaporating long enough to permit one hand to ghost over the once desecrated garden with trembling fingers, those vibrant and beautiful flowers long extinguished, it was the one thing of which would always be a constant reminder. It was an etching forever bound eternally within the mind of why they harbored so much desire for revenge and held an eschew for any semblance of a normal life. The fires burned so strong, realization long since delivering its decisive blow, and leaving behind a reality that nothing was left.

 

Shedding so many tears, wallowing in grief, feeling lost and torn asunder, to simper within an endless assault of indescribable loneliness only did nothing but to serve as a conduit for despondency.

 

It seemed endless to know you were all alone in the world and the last of your kind. Such was painful to bear, even while the figure retracted and another pitiful sob rose dismally into the air, a sudden directional shift in the wind which invoked a change in pressure jolted the person upright and snagged their attention. The whispering of voices swept through the swaying trees, and an ominous feeling hung in the air. Worry clutched at the figure as their head shifted from left to right while attentively surveying the area around them. Their hackles quickly arose as something foreboding had forced their guard to raise and become highly alert, while another voice, this time more menacing in nature wafted around the figure, the chuckle taunting and mocking.

 

Instinctively, their right hand rose as something silvery materialized out of thin air around slender digits as it glinted off the fading sun, darkness invoking as it descended, and encapsulated the forest around them. For a moment time seemed to stand still, everything going pin-drop quiet and the figure breathed heavily, pants laden within their ears, though a sense of dread clung adamantly to their heart.

 

Silence ensued as nothing appeared to move, then something nefarious crept forward as piceous tendrils slunk across the floor, their intimidating presence wandering towards the oblivious figure, rising almost viciously towards them. It wavered like monstrous, gnarled fingers, disgusting and horrific, coiling viperously at the person’s sides, taking them by surprise. Long, elongated chains suddenly lashed out, attacking the encroaching mass, only temporarily dissipating it before the inky blackness returned, and resumed its assault.  


Quickly, the appendages began to curl around the figure’s legs as they rose up around the person's body and in their panicked state, they began attacking blindly, though every attempt to ward off the malevolent entity from trapping them within its nightmarish grasp was in vain.

 

Fear elicited a vibrant, piercing shade of red to the figure’s eyes and desperation became the focal point of their survival. The chains whipped erratically around them, clashing and lunging in a fruitless attempt, though the valiant effort hadn’t gone unnoticed.

 

Little by little the tendrils crawled over them, twisting and clutching, almost entirely amassing as the things eventually reached the figure’s shoulders, and a deep voice rang out amiss the din, its heartless tone criticizing the person’s useless attempt at saving themselves. Their eyes widened in sheer apprehension which deepened the vibrancy of the figure’s eyes as realization seemed to strike once again and fear washed over their once steeled visage.  

 

Dismay soon laced those defiant and endless red depths as the somber creature constricted further around them, almost encasing the person in complete darkness. That odious voice was inevitably crushing their will, ending all hope and just before unconsciousness claimed them, two loathsome gray eyes bored impishly down into their own, laughter trailing them into eternity.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Kurapika jolted awake and sat up ramrod straight in bed while breathing hard as thick beads of sweat rolled off his slender flame. His clothes clung tightly to his body, and the bedding was completely disheveled. It had been that dream again, the very same one he had the unfortunate encounter with on an almost nightly basis. Each and every time it occurred, he would always find himself back within the forests of Lusko and the village he was once raised in but had also abandoned.


He had returned after learning of his family’s massacre, looking over the remains of his home and weeping for what was lost. Though while he grieved, something horrific would clutch to him, practically suffocating as a thick and twining mass would encircle his body that threatened to kill him each time. Right before he would wake in a raging sweat, shock and fear would grip his soul as an incorrigible laugh tore through his heart, and he would find himself staring up into two cold and emotionless gray eyes.

 

Each and every time it was exactly the same; the remembrance of it seemed to burn deep into his very being. For months the dream had been recurring, and to where he was getting very little sleep anymore. The repercussions had started taking its toll, affecting him during his daily processes; even his friends had noticed the changes and had expressed their concerns.

 

Slowly Kurapika lifted a hand to clutch his chest as he tried to calm down. His golden locks had become matted and tousled and stuck to his face, almost concealing the fact that his eyes had turned briefly scarlet before resuming their normal chilling blue.

 

When his breathing finally evened out, the Kurta disentangled himself from the sheets and climbed out of bed, realizing it wasn't yet dawn outside and headed towards the restroom, deciding a nice warm shower would be the remedy to his nerve-wracking experience. After plodding into the small room and standing before the vanity, the reflection that stared back was startling.


Dark circles had accentuated his usually vibrant cerulean eyes and were rimmed slightly in red with puffy spots beneath. It was clear to tell he hadn’t slept properly in days. Sighing dejectedly, Kurapika went over to the large porcelain basin and stepped into it after doffing his damp clothes upon the tiled flooring. He turned the knobs and then stood beneath the warm spray which soon washed his bare, lithe form in a soothing caress.

 

For some time he had been trying to analyze the meaning behind the dream as each event always occurred the same way, though he felt it had to be something significant. Whatever it was though, Kurapika wasn't entirely sure of.

 

One thing was for certain – every time he closed his eyes, he was transported back to that night, and to the same tragic scene that haunted him for so long. His entire village had been plundered, everything burned, all his memories, everyone he knew, it had all vanished in the wisps of smoke that arose from the still smoldering shells that had been left behind. Even the home he had grown up in was nothing but shattered remains. It brought him to his knees, and Kurapika knew that deep within his own heart, he was weak, despite all his vows and convictions. Constantly reliving the tragedy was slowly causing him to crumble and come undone.

 

Kurapika felt tears threaten to break the dams that so desperately tried to forbade their release, and he fell against the cold tile of the shower wall. The water that soaked his tresses ran off the silky tips while rivulets drew sinuous patterns down his fame as his shoulders quaked with ebbing control.


He couldn’t do this; every part of him was just so tired of dealing with the constant pain. He had long since made peace with himself, and with his past ever since he entrapped the leader of the Genei Ryodan and sealed his Nen, leaving him upon that barren plateau. That was the very moment he decided it was time to let go, and move on to find a different path in life.

 

Or was it?

 

For so long he had walked a path laden with thorns that only led into the bowels of destruction and the desecration of his very soul. It was something Kurapika didn’t like to think of, much less dwell on. For him, it was a chained reality, much like the binding his own Nen chains created, even when he contrived them, their sole reasoning for existence was the extraction of vengeance. Yet, when he gazed down upon them now, there was a sense of listlessness when he tried to feel their connection and their silvery presence offered no semblance of comfort.

 

Now all the chains seemed to hold was a constant reminder of the painful life he led.

 

Would he ever be able to extricate himself from the desolate path that fate has so cruelly chosen for him, or what it had destined for him?

 

It was difficult, almost unbearable. Although Kurapika had settled on just finding the remaining missing pairs of Scarlet Eyes so he could give his brethren eternal rest, it seemed that no matter how hard he tried or how far the distance, he simply couldn’t evade his past. Its ever-present hold on him perpetually reinforced just how dismal his life had become and was always a constant reminder that he may never escape it. The solace he had always sought always seemed so far out of reach.

 

Sighing in abjuration, Kurapika exhaled sharply and banished the very notion of his thoughts to the furthest depths of his mind as he was wasting too much energy wallowing in it. He straightened within the warm spray as it continued to pour over him, and Kurapika took the opportunity to thoroughly wash as his focus deviated towards his current agenda for the day. He had plans to meet up with Gon, and the rest of his friends for a long, overdue get together they had long since neglected to do or had just been too ridiculously busy to find the time for.

 

In any regard, Kurapika didn’t have the time to waste on such frivolities. If one could really call it that? Perhaps it wasn’t entirely nonsensical; but for now, he would have to push the feelings aside, as much as the lulling pull to seek answers retained strong, it wasn’t really priority.

 

Though it would eventually prove just how wrong he really was.

 

“There has to be some meaning or an answer for what it means. But at the moment…” Kurapika's train of thought was cut off when he stepped out of the shower to dry off, and the blond caught a fleeting glimpse of himself in the adjacent mirror. For the breadth of a moment, his eyes must have attempted their legendary change – flecks of garnet hue graced the vibrancy of wistful ceruleans, although the flash was gone as quickly as it appeared, and left Kurapika pondering exactly why such an abrupt transformation took place. There was just so much colliding upon him all at once; it was overwhelming.

 

Life sure has a funny way of doling out punishment, doesn’t it?

 

Once Kurapika finished, he exited the bathroom and returned to the bedroom of the little apartment he lived alone in – which he preferred to be that way despite his friends insisted on residing together. Having the privacy was nice. Especially considering just how hyperactive Gon and Killua could be, and Leorio’s snoring which resembled way too much of a freight train ramming through any dwelling, putting up with that daily would have practically driven him crazy. He chuckled at the thought; it was one of many fond memories he had of his friends, and even though he had vowed so long ago never to get too close to anyone, they had quickly wormed their way into his once steel imbued heart. The fond reminiscing only furthered the excitement to see them, especially after so long; he was epinephrine to learn about their most recent exploits since the last time together.

 

Completely ignoring the still disheveled bed that only seemed to incite the emergence of those superfluous memories, the blond padded over towards the large cherry oak dresser to find something to wear, and opted for something casual, but comfortable. For a while, Kurapika had been donning crisp business suits due to his job as a bodyguard while in Nostrade’s employ. Throughout that time, he had been coaxed into aiding the audacious man with his ploys to regain his lost fortune or during his own objectives as he used the connections Nostrade had with the Mafia to track down the remaining Scarlet Eyes. Both aspects were taxing, and the Kurta was quite frankly just mentally exhausted. It was nice for a chance to take a break and simply breathe.

 

Or what he could be classified as being able to breathe.

 

Opening up one of the topmost drawers, he pulled out a plain, soft red t-shirt and khaki shorts, noting how long it had been since he was able to wear something that didn’t feel like it was bathed in about fifty gallons of starch. Kurapika quickly changed, then quietly exited the bedroom and wasted no time slipping through the quaint living room with its mediocre décor and furnishings, which the blond had always been modest and never really delved into the more posh things in life. Everything was simplistic, just as Kurapika liked it and for him, it was enough to remain in contentment.

 

All his life he had been taught to enjoy the basics and to cherish the value of the little things, that nothing should ever be taken for granted. Though such standards weren’t exactly the easiest things to uphold, he had managed quite well, and never attempted to go above his means as his living space clearly denoted.

 

Modesty was something the Kurta refused to let go of while trying to retain his sense of a moral compass, but during the most trying times, it was something that got tested. There we even times where those limits revealed that his resolve, determination, and tenacity would waver or crumble and open doorways to places Kurapika never wished to venture. Some of those instances he wanted to forget where he caught himself faltering past the boundaries of what he considered acceptable in favor of more heinous crimes, or indulging in random acts of thievery to ascertain his personal goals. It was that part of himself Kurapika hated the most.

 

Was it possible, however, that he could be seen as superficial?

 

Pushing his way into the kitchen, the blond wasted no time making a beeline towards the coffee maker to get his much-needed dose of caffeine. Since he knew what kind of events he was going to be dealing with, friends or no, he was going to need something to kick start with, as it was plain as the day was long that sleep deprivation was catching up and beginning to make itself known. Kurapika made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and noticed the faint auric glow streaming through the alabaster curtains that adorned the wall next to the kitchen, and the warmth of its placating allure gave him a welcoming sense of comfort.

 

Sighing contentedly, Kurapika retreated long enough to pour himself a hot cup of java, sweetening it mildly before returning to bask within the inviting rays of the sun as it washed over his lithe frame. The glow flourished around him, and it made his skin seem to shine as the vibrancy of his golden which appeared to be reflective, formed a halo around his head, making him appear angelic.

 

It was hard to believe that something as simple as the presence of the morning sun and its the caress of its rays could prompt such an invocating calm and diminish his tension. Kurapika felt himself slowly loosen up, his muscles growing somewhat lax, as the Kurta found he wasn’t as stiff as he was before. It was nice for a change, especially considering the current events of the morning. Shaking his head, the blond grunted and finished off the remaining fluid within his cup then deposited it in the sink. He took note of the time on the small wall clock that sat next to the fridge. Seven am.

 

Kurapika paused a moment, remembering that he agreed to meet his friends in town for breakfast. Deciding he’d rather not deal with any lip service in regards to punctuality – especially from Leorio, the blond decided it was time to exit his abode, and headed towards his rendezvous point. Besides, he needed to enjoy himself a little.

 

After putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys from the writing desk by the front door, he exited his apartment, then quickly locked up.

 

 

~*~

 

 

“KURAPIKA!” The resonance of the familiar voice rang clearly in his ears, and the blond turned around to be nearly toppled over by a spiky-haired youth barreling at him as large, amber eyes stared up at him in sheer delight. As usual, the boy had a daffy grin spread upon his face.

 

“Gon,” Kurapika responded as he attempted to pry himself from the boy’s vice-like grip, though he wasn’t completely opposed to Gon’s rather crushing hugs. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Yo.” Another boy, about the same age as Gon with silver-hued locks styled in the same motif as the other boy came forth, hands resting casually behind his head. “Long time no see.” He continued as those steel blue eyes hard focused upon the blond.

 

“It’s good to see you both.” Kurapika let his own lips curl into one of those scarce, infinitive smiles, always finding that being in the presence of the two energetic youths had a rather lenitive effect upon him. “You two have been rather well I see?”

 

“Of course. Unless you want to count the numerous times Gon has decided to push his limits during his skill tests while training. A few times he passed out from sheer exhaustion.” Killua mused, a whimsical expression crossing his usually stoic features.

 

“Hey! I don’t always expect things like that to happen!” Gon retorted and pouted.

 

Kurapika couldn’t help but be enthralled by the two’s antics, just like the days when they were traveling during their time at the Hunter Exam, how their banter would eventually liven the mood of any adverse effects, giving the group a reason to dissuade from retaining anger or distress – especially Gon. He had such a bright, infectious personality and knew how to diffuse almost any terrible situation while turning it on its head to bring about the best from generally the worst. Then there was Killua, the former assassin who had a relative dark history. Although it was bloodstained and the fact he was a Zoldyck mattered not to the weighing prospect of what he meant to their wayward group of misfits. Killua was more the brawn of their group, though it was not far from the truth the silver-haired boy also retained his own substance when it came to smart decision making, more often than not, analyzing situations thoroughly and devising a plan before pushing forth, which held its own advantages. Such a ragtag bunch they were, and it was of no mystery why Kurapika felt such an affinity for them.

 

Though someone he realized was missing.

 

“Where is Leorio? Is he with you guys?”

 

Gon looked up to face Kurapika, a cheery expression upon his subtle features, “Of course he is! He insisted on coming! Kept mumbling on how he figured you’d be angry with him if he didn’t.”

 

The blond couldn’t help but laugh; he knew Leorio’s hot, explosive temper was something which had gotten the bewildered man into more trouble than not. Though one thing that held the oldest of their group in high renown was his generosity as he strove to become a doctor to help those who were considered less fortunate. The drive was so instilled, so strong and impellent, Kurapika knew one day his friend would succeed.

 

“Don’t tell me you honestly thought I wouldn’t be here.” A sudden loud and boisterous voice nearly chided from behind him, and Kurapika turned to see a tall man wearing a crisp blue suit with a tie, small glasses perched on the bridge of his nose along with short, cropped hair staring at him, a mischievous grin upon his lips. “There is no way I would have missed this for the world!” It wasn’t long before Leorio had gathered them all up into a ruthless, strangulating hug to which the Kurta found himself wasting no time extricating himself from.

 

“It’s good to see you too, Leorio.” Kurapika choked out as he stood watching the older man with a slightly aggravated stare, hands sweeping almost flawlessly over his clothing to eliminate any further wrinkling.

 

“Yeah, you don’t need to suffocate us, old man.” Killua blurted out as he had also wriggled away from Leorio’s grasp, huffing in exasperation. “Not like we really want you crushing us to death.”

 

The older man couldn’t help but continue to smirk as he enjoyed rousing his friends just as much as they tried to differ from his jabbing and ribbing. The expressions on their visages were priceless, but he was sure that if he continued to push his luck any further, they might decide to drop him on his head.

 

Leorio let the idealism fade away, and his expression turned more serious as his eyes landed almost harshly on the blond, “And what is with the silence all the sudden, Kurapika? It’s been at least a month since we left Yorknew City, and yet, you hadn’t said so much as boo to really any of us.” The rigid tone of the older man’s voice almost struck hard, and the Kurta’s eyes turned downcast, refusing to meet Leorio’s accusatory stare. Of course, Kurapika had a good reason for the extended radio silence, and the fact remained that since he had been working on his own agendas while continuing his job for the Nostrade family, it left little room for recreational activities.

 

Still, couldn’t help but feel that wavering pull of guilt which rolled through his gut and the notion that he had been willfully neglecting those who meant the most to him within the dastardly and unforgiving world only reinforced that feeling. Kurapika sighed, eyes falling closed briefly before reopening and the young man rose to face his friend, glittering sapphires returning with their own resolution. “I’ve had my reasons. Not that I wished to refrain from any form of contact, Leorio, it’s just my job keeps me away and immorally busy, though you most of all I figured would understand that.” Kurapika blinked at the abrasive, stoic undertones crossing his own voice and let the features of his countenance soften while retaining some of his lost composure. “It is most unfortunate I lack the time necessary for indulging in relaxation and fun. Light Nostrade makes damn sure he keeps all of us as busy as possible, and I for one don’t mind the deterrence.” The blond cut his words off, realizing that none of them had actually ordered anything; he inconspicuously plucked the menu off the table, and attempted to immerse himself amidst its contents to avoid any further heated conversation with Leorio, knowing in the long run, it was really just going nowhere. The Kurta had long since made his choices, and as harsh a reality as that was, he just inwardly wished that his friends would be able to come to grips with that and understand.

 

Knowing his luck recently that would be about as farfetched as the Genei Ryodan showing up and professing their retribution to him.

 

“Guys, let’s not fight.” Gon whined as he shifted his worried look between Kurapika and Leorio as he attempted to appease them, “Besides, everything will work out in the end, won’t it?” The boy continued, though his tone resumed its cheeriness almost seamlessly, “It always does.”

 

Kurapika had to admit it, but Gon was right. He usually was.

 

“Alright, alright.” Leorio relented easily, holding his hands up defensively. “It’s not like I don’t realize that Kurapika has a job to do. Of course, he can’t always just up and leave whenever he pleases, but it would be nice if he attempted to at least keep in better contact with us then he has been. I mean… Sometimes I wonder if he is dead or alive!” Leorio quickly balked at the abrupt attempt, but a chilly stare delivered by Killua ceased his tirade and he slid back in his chair petulantly.

 

“Don’t worry Kurapika, he doesn’t mean anything by it.” The silver-haired boy concluded, hoping to keep the blond from getting anymore frustrated than he already was.

 

Truthfully, Kurta had already become unexpectedly detached, his expression going practically blank, and void, his mind wandering back upon a phrasing that he used just moments before Leorio’s submission. For some reason, a single word stuck out in his mind. Genei Ryodan. Why of all things, would the Spiders suddenly become the forefront of his thought processes? As far as he was concerned, he had deviated from his prior conviction of extracting complete and total revenge against the Genei Ryodan the day he sealed their leader’s Nen away and concluded that with their head severed, the rest of the group would be pushed into eventual dispersion.

 

So what purpose would it serve by mulling over what was happening with them at the current?

 

For some odd reason, however, Kurapika's mind was defecting, and those visions shimmered through his mind in near clarity as he saw himself once again standing encompassed by the crumbling and charred ruins of his village. That ubiquitous voice drove hard into his skull, into his being, and down to his very soul as that vicious, nefarious mass of ink-like threads sinuated around him, and nearly cinched the breath in his chest. And just like before, as his consciousness began to face, he saw two emotionless, bitter gray eyes that seemed to hunger for his demise before falling into nothingness.

 

Even as the images replayed over and over within his mind like a broken record, Kurapika started to believe he was reliving his nightmares and was vaguely aware that someone had been tugging hard on his sleeve while concerned voices tried in desperation to reach him.

 

Kurapika clutched his head as he attempted to stave off a bout of nausea, his head feeling like it was in a vice and his eyes closed in sheer attempt to keep his wavering stability.

 

“Huh? What happened?” The blond managed to blurt out, eyes slowly opening once he was confident the dizziness he was experiencing had begun to subside and his gaze landed on three sets of eyes all staring in concern at him. It took him a moment to realize something happened and it became conclusive he temporarily blacked out for he only remembered all of them talking while listening to Leorio’s fussing before everything became a wild blur, the fragments of what transpired after that flitted about his mind. Images came flooding back of black, sinister coils wrapping around his body, and the ungodly sense of dread as the air was being torn from his lungs while those eyes… Always those eyes filled with malice and mirth that bore into his own along with bone-chilling familiarity of it – he knew those eyes, but from where?

 

“What the hell? Are you suddenly going all cationic on us, Kurapika?” Leorio blurted out after a long, awkward silence before Killua clobbered him on the head, the silver-haired boy muttering something about insensitivity before returning his concerned focus back on the troubled blond. “I was only curious if that was the case, sheesh.”

 

Killua shot Leorio another warning look before sighing; something was definitely going on, and he could tell that Kurapika wasn’t telling them something, though he was quite aware the blond had his reasons for generally being closed in. Whatever was causing their friend unease was definitely not something he would have considered keeping as a formal secret.

 

“You suddenly went all weird on us, as if your mind had lapsed or something…” Killua spoke after realizing no one else had decided to answer Kurapika’s question. It was evident the young blond man had no idea what had happened to him; he could see it in the other’s eyes. They were almost glassy as if he had been drunk. “You also began muttering. Something about being watched and that you thought you knew who it was.”

 

Gon who was curious by Killua’s statement, tilted his head as he attempted to process the information, though wasn’t exactly sure what the reference to. Something was definitely off, and well, he couldn’t sit back and let his friend deal with whatever it was all on his own. The black-haired boy sidled closer the blond as his large eyes focused on Kurapika’s distraught visage.

 

“Something is definitely wrong. You can tell us.” Gon tried to encourage, knowing Kurapika was definitely distressed. “We’re your friends and always here for you. There is no need to suffer from this alone.” However, the Kurta sighed, almost in exasperation and his shoulders slouched. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them; quite to the contrary. He was just saddled with the paranoia of involving them with things he felt wasn't necessary.

 

If anything, Kurapika struggled with himself, and always pondered over what if’s, while constantly torn between wanting to rely on them, and not wanting to burden them. These were his problems and his alone.

 

Yet, he could tell that so long as he bottled up his plights, it would continue to plague him until he relented.

 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you – I do trust you guys, but it’s something I wanted to try and handle on my own. “ Kurapika admitted, albeit ruefully, his depthless eyes landing on Gon’s pleading ones and all the young blond could do was groan abjectly. It burned him down to the core to tell them about those inexorable dreams, as Kurapika feared if they ever discovered the meaning – which he intended to do, it could set them off onto a downward spiral of dangers that could end up haunting them for the rest of his life.

 

He knew just how reckless Gon could be, which sounded very akin to how he was and unfortunately, Killua and Leorio would just follow by default. Kurapika couldn’t live with the knowledge of being responsible for placing them into unnecessary danger. It was quite the conundrum. Either he would be perpetually hounded to divulge the things he had been plagued with or inevitably put them down a dubious path he didn’t want to think about.

 

The blond Kurta drew in a much-needed breath, his lungs were agonizing for what he realized was him withholding from breathing. “I’ve been having these dreams.”

 

“Dreams?” Leorio cut in immediately, shock instantly mirroring over his features.

 

“Yes, dreams. Well. More like nightmares. It’s been the same one.” He began as everyone stilled, only the soft conversation of the other restaurant patrons seemed to penetrate the heavy silence. It was unsettling, and it caused Kurapika to shift in his seat uncomfortably. He could almost feel the barrage of questions that were being concocted to fire in his direction and the Kurta winced.

 

There was just no way he was entirely ready for was about to happen. Another sigh expelled from his throat as Kurapika released a long, laden breath, his chest having felt tight for quite some time now. “The problem is,” The blond continued before any of them had the chance to react, mentally steeling himself for the incoming onslaught, “This dream, I’ve had it almost nightly, and it pretty much happens the exact same way. Starts the same and ends the same.”

 

Kurapika could sense their weighted stares, almost as if they were attempting to bore down into his very soul, their auras slightly flaring and then dissipating. Again the actions pricked at his awareness, heightening his perception and the young blond seized another sharp breath as he attempted to brace himself. If anything, the one person who concerned him the most was Leorio. Just the amount of pressure the other young man was generating made him flinch. He knew his friend was worried for him, but he had a tendency to get carried away and very quickly. The blond sighed again.

 

“What kind of dream is it?” This time it was Killua who spoke, his icy blue eyes focused inquisitively on Kurapika.

 

“Honestly… I don’t know. Though what I do remember about it is that I end up back at my village each time, though everyone is gone.” It was plain as day the recounting of such painful memories was definitely problematic for their friend, and Gon laid a consoling hand on Kurapika’s arm, his expression soft and caring. Nodding from the reassurance he continued, “The place, it had been ransacked. Everything had been burned and left to be buried under years of flora growth. However, the one thing I remember more than anything is this twisted, black mass of hatred and iniquity wrapping itself around my body, almost as if it was trying to drag me under, and preventing me from fighting back. Though right before I’d wake up,” Kurapika breathed in harshly, shaking almost visibly. Then he realized it was all Leorio could do not to leap to his side, but he held up a placating hand, “I am fine.” Of course, reliving the horrors one experienced without any cessation only provoked a higher form of anxiety, and for once, Kurapika could have sworn it was like suffocating. Still, he didn’t want to worry the others much, especially Leorio. That man had liked to leap too quickly, often working himself up needlessly.

 

“It’s okay, Kurapika, we are here for you. Don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.” Gon affirmed, his hand patting the young blond’s arm consolingly. “If it is too painful for you to talk about it we understand.”

 

“No, it’s quite alright. I can continue.” Kurapika closed his eyes momentarily and slowly calmed himself as he invoked placidity back into his mind, finding his composure once more. “As I was saying, the one thing that I noticed right before I’d wake up would be these fathomless gray eyes that seemed to stare endlessly at me, and even though I never realize them right away, each time the dream starts, I would always see them right before waking. What is more disturbing is the familiarity of those eyes.”

 

Kurapika felt haunted, even as he delved back into the aspects of describing those eyes once more. He wasn’t able to shake the odd feeling that he knew more than his mind would let on as if his subconscious had repressed a specific aspect as a type of safety mechanism. For the life of him, Kurapika couldn’t place a finger on what meaning those eyes had or just who they belonged to, but one thing was for sure, aside the wicked entity that would constantly coil around him with its desperation to end his life, those eyes were the only other thing of importance to those dreams. There was significance behind them Kurapika was sure. As to what? Well, that was something he intended to find out.

 

“Eyes, huh?” The silver-haired boy chimed in, expression thoughtful, “Sounds like someone either has or had been watching you. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary, lately?”

 

Kurapika thought back and really couldn’t pinpoint anything of relative significance. The only thing that had any real connective point was the fact it had to do with his village and kin. It was upsetting and troubling all rolled into one since he was no close to the answers now as he was when the visions first started.

 

“There isn’t anything that I have noticed to be quite honest. As I’ve said, the only thing I can see any relation to is the fact that it may have something to do with my clan, but aside that, nothing.”

 

The prudent look which seemed to cross Killua’s face brought about a sense of shock almost instantaneously for Kurapika knew the young boy was relatively astute and could find the meaning behind nearly anything and without a second thought. It was hard to believe that Killua held such a high intelligence at his age, but he was really about as smart and profound as Kurapika was himself. Not that his other two friends weren’t. But he had to admit, out of them all, Gon appeared to be the most coalesced.

 

Regardless of circumstance or reason, the spiky-haired boy always managed to retain the affinity they had for one another.

 

Killua held up one finger as he looked thoughtful, “There is definitely significance behind it, that much I am certain. It’s just finding out exactly what." Whatever it was, Killua was sure it would become apparent with time. For now, all they could do was analyze the information they had so far. “One thing I will ask though is when did these dreams start? I think that is where we need to start looking."

 

That was definitely one thing Kurapika hadn’t taken into consideration. It wasn’t something he had figured would hold any relevance. Obviously, despite the minor oversight, the silver-haired boy was on the right track it seemed. Though he wasn’t exactly sure on the date specifically of when the dreams had begun, one thing he was confident on was the fact that he had been experiencing them for roughly a little over a month. It had just come out of the blue, for no reason in particular and each night he’d awake from the dream in a cold sweat and shaking. Kurapika wasn’t sure why or what triggered such a nerve-wracking dream sequence, but it was something that he hoped would end soon. The Kurta wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

 

Placing a hand on his chin, he tried to wander back to an exact starting point, “If anything I’d have to say the dream started about a month or so ago. I believe not too long after I moved into the current place I am staying at.” Surely that had to mean something, right? Nothing else Kurapika could think of seemed to house any pertinence to his current predicament. “From what I can remember it seemed to initiate a few nights after I had settled in. But I have no idea what would have caused it in the first place.” Kurapika was indeed frustrated as he felt no close to finding out the constant nagging questions that held no answers. If anything, they were right back at the beginning where they started. He raked his fingers through his golden locks, the chains on his right hand melodiously clinking as he did so. “Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin.” The blond added, his voice filled with uncertainty.

 

“I say that actually helps.” Killua blurted out suddenly, much to Kurapika’s dismay and Leorio and Gon’s surprise.

 

“Do you actually have an idea of what it may be?” Gon questioned, his inquisitive nature easily piqued as his focus snapped towards the other boy. “I honestly don’t know what to make of it.”

 

“That’s because,” two slender fingers nearly as pale as snow rose before Killua, the young boy’s lips seeming to curl into a knowing smile, “the significance resides within the relevance of one of the most important aspects of the dream.” He continued, almost seamlessly and quickly provided Leorio a look of warning in case the tall man decided to interject since he looked as if he was preparing to fire back with a retort, though he quickly deflated and slunk back into his chair, a smoldering gaze flickering inside brown eyes. “Kurapika, you said that one of the things you remember vividly more than anything else was these inky like creatures restraining you, which in hindsight was more than likely not being done to drag you into unconsciousness or force you to wake up, but to ensure you witnessed something that would put a persuasive hold on you. Or should I say something which would remain encumbering and influential?“

 

“You don’t mean…?” Shock instantly hit Leorio as realization sunk in. Most times, he wasn’t even remotely astute as the others, but he seemed to grasp what Killua was trying to convey. Though if what the young boy was trying to say was true… He didn’t want to think about it. The thought of it was horrific enough that it was the last thing he would have even wanted to entertain.

 

How something like that could even possibly be the case… He thought they were past that situation, and that Kurapika had long since laid the entire fiasco to rest. Now that it was resurfacing again, Leorio couldn’t help but feel troubled, and a shiver rolled up his spine.

 

“That is what I mean exactly,” Killua confirmed.

 

Silence descended around them, and no one made a move to talk. They sat there staring in contemplation, the awkwardness of it only ambled on, leaving the laden heaviness hanging in the air.

 

“But what exactly are you saying?” Gon was beyond curious at this point, he felt more lost than ever, his gaze flicking from between Leorio to Killua as he wracked his mind for an answer.

 

“Think back, Gon. Think back to Yorknew only about a month and a half ago. You do remember what transpired then, right?” Killua furthered.

 

It was almost as if the spiky-haired youth had been suddenly hit with an epiphany, amber-hued eyes going wide with realization and all three of them regarded Kurapika again with an equal amalgam of uneasiness and dread.

 

The blond simply blinked, startled by their quick and abrupt motions and cocked his head askance, “What? Don’t tell me…” He began, letting his even gaze fall on Killua, knowing his friend obviously had his suspicions, but judging from the conversation and subsequently their collective reactions, it was obvious they had reached a conclusion. “You think you know what it means, then?”

 

“The eyes.” The silver headed boy answered coolly, not missing a heartbeat, though he kept his focus on their blond friend, gauging his reaction, weighing in to see if recognition would hit. “You mentioned seeing eyes right before waking up. The color too is what had me really thinking and to be frank, where do we remember those eyes from? Or should I say who?”

 

It only took a span of a moment before the magnitude of what Killua said struck him hard as it weighed on him like a ton of bricks. Kurapika cursed beneath his breath; never had he thought in a lifetime that his past would just continue to haunt him and drive him deeper into anguish and lament.

 

The very thing which had dogged him for the majority of his life and made him constantly miserable was the very same thing he thought had finally been put behind him, yet, his was coming back to wreak havoc upon his life once again. The very notion brought about an instant surge of disgust and vexation. Kurapika's right hand balled instantaneously into a white-knuckled fist, the chains biting into his blanched flesh. He hissed vehemently between his teeth, causing his friends to jump at the sudden action. Without hesitation or warning, his eyes flashed a deadly, incandescent scarlet.

 

It was as if sin came looking for him, trying to reclaim his soul once again. It left a bitter, vile taste in his mouth and on his tongue.

 

For a split moment, Kurapika felt like his life was beginning to come undone. That everything he had worked so hard for, that all his sacrifices and resignation would have been enough to taper the continuation of his suffering. He had made peace with himself, appealed to a different path and amended his convictions. This he thought was the conclusion after he succeeded in cinching the very source of all his pain and malaise so he could finally move on.

 

But here he was, facing his own demons, facing that monster once again. The Kurta could still feel that his Nen binding on the man remained intact, and was keeping the suppression in place. How that phantom was still able to harrow him, Kurapika intended to find out. It had gone so far that this hateful person was now invading his dreams. It was utter blasphemy.

 

After everything, and all he endured, the blond was beginning to wonder exactly why he was being forced to face such a plaguing entity again.

 

No, he would not let everything he had worked so hard for to be for naught.

 

“I am going to put an end to this once and for all.”

Notes:

This was probably the most emotional chapter I have written so far out of what I have done regarding this fic. Though I really wanted to see what it would be like to take Kurapika's emotional state through a different kind of method, especially when he had attempted to come to terms with his current life and tries to move on. It's definitely a different twist I am taking, but considering the ideas I have in mind, it will only get better.

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