Chapter Text
The first time was an accident. Kurapika ended up in an island country in search of a pair of Scarlet Eyes. It was so insignificant as to not be labeled on most world maps, and it was not even recognized as a country. Officially, the population is zero, but as with many things, that is far from the truth. It was a popular place for people of all kinds looking to escape the law. Even the poorest parts were many times better than the similarly lawless Meteor City, but there was still a divisive difference between the wealthy looking to escape the grasp of tax collectors, the violent criminals evading arrest, and the unfortunate souls who were abandoned or birthed then abandoned there. As such, there was an invisible line down the middle of the island separating the rich from the rest, and there was a mutual agreement to not commit too many murders to avoid any tattletales trying to save their own tail by calling on their own government, or — God forbid— the Hunter Association. The country had no official name, but its inhabitants called it Ezyv— the forgotten country.
It was a Tuesday night without any meaning on the day they re-met. He got the tip about the Scarlet Eyes from an anonymous source on the Hunter Website, and devoid of any other leads, came to Ezyv. After three days of aimless wandering and interrogation, fighting off thieves and prostitutes, Kurapika found himself leaning against a rickety apartment building barely three stories tall, and closing his eyes to get some rest. He hasn’t caught a wink of sleep in days, and he’d been exhausting his Emperor Time in order to interrogate the inhabitants about the whereabouts of the eyes. Faintly, he heard someone opening a window above him.
“And it’s you— to no one’s surprise.”
Kurapika heard a familiar voice, irritatingly mocking, and his killing intent instantly sharpened and violently spread through the area. When he looked up, his eyes shone bright red.
“As I thought, those Scarlet Eyes were worth the death of your people.”
Bystanders began to walk away at the sound of Kurapika punching through the brick exterior of the building, his whole body trembling from wrath, “Chrollo Lucilfer…”
“Ah… Kurapika, was it?” he smiled, “Why don’t you come up here? That brick wall can’t be a comfortable place to sleep.”
To his surprise, Kurapika found himself brushing off his arm and walking up the concrete stairs up to the second floor. Perhaps it was the sheer amicability that his lifelong enemy invited him with, or the weird meaninglessness of killing him now, after the Yorknew fiasco. Truthfully, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t have tracked down and murdered Chrollo after the exchange with Gon and Killua. A Nen-less man couldn’t travel very far, and with the help of Dowsing Chain and a map Kurapika didn’t doubt he could have caught Chrollo again if he tried. He mostly left Chrollo alone on account of an understanding that his friends were against him murdering. Still, it feels wrong to just leave Chrollo completely alone now that he’s found him (and since he’s found him while searching for Scarlet Eyes it seems as if by fate).
Kurapika stood in front of the door on the second floor for a second, unsure whether the correct course of action in this situation would be to knock or to break down the door, causing as much property damage as possible. Before he could come to a decision, the door opened. Chrollo stood in sweater and sweatpants, his greasy hair covering his forehead tattoo. His only defining physical traits left were his orb earrings and his dark eye circles.
“You look awful as ever.”
Chrollo tsked, “Lying is a sin, dear Kurapika.”
Kurapika barged inside the apartment and muttered, “Insufferable bastard.”
The interior was depressing as expected. Kurapika hoped the unpainted popcorn walls contained asbestos. The only furniture consisted of a suspiciously stained mattress, a table with three and a half legs, a neon green plastic stool, a faded blue portable gas stove, and a cooler. There was a pile of books stacked up beside the mattress. A single lightbulb hung on the ceiling, and it flickered so violently Kurapika thought he might get a seizure. Kurapika stared in disgust as he watched a cockroach crawl beneath the portable stove.
“I’d say I feel sorry for you but that’d be a lie.”
“So hostile to your host? I see you’re ever the ungrateful brat.”
Chrollo sat down on the stool, “Feel free to keep standing.”
Why’d you invite me in?”
“Why does one do anything? I was curious about you, Kurapika.” Chrollo paused, “By the way, you’re setting yourself for getting murdered, going around harassing the locals like that.”
Kurapika stared at him, “You know what I’ve been doing?”
“Word spreads quick around here. Still, if even a nobody like me is aware of you then you must’ve pissed off a good amount of people,” thinking that was enough elaboration, Chrollo moved onto more important topics, “More pertinently, aren’t you flattered that the one who you’ve been chasing after for so long is finally returning your affections?”
Scowling, Kurapika said, “How narcissistic. My brethren are the only ones I’m concerned with. I’ll finish collecting their eyes and that’ll be the end of my life’s mission.”
“Try to soothe yourself however you wish, but in the end it’s just an excuse because you can’t bring yourself to kill me, no?”
He lurched forward and held Chrollo in a chokehold, “You should watch your tongue. You’re completely powerless now.” Kurapika’s eyes flashed crimson and it took a second for him to turn it back to gray.
“Why don’t you stop trying to control those eyes of yours? You aren’t ashamed of your heritage, are you?”
With his other arm, Kurapika punched Chrollo square in the face with enough force to send him flying, if not for the fact that he was still grabbing onto his neck. Kurapika caught him wince, which made him smugger than it should have, “You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?”
This time his voice was a little breathless, “Something unnecessary like that…”
Blood dribbled out his newly crooked nose, and bruises were already starting to bloom across his pale face. A sickening pleasure burgeoned in Kurapika’s chest and he dreaded that he could feel such an emotion at someone else’s pain, even if that someone was Chrollo. The prospect of violence made him sick.
“Little Kurta, why do you hide your eyes so?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Ah, it’s due to your Nen, no?”
Kurapika tensed up, and he tightened his grip so. Chrollo choked as his air was blocked. It would be so easy to keep holding on for another minute, and let this man die. Against his better judgment, Kurapika let go. Chrollo leant over, gasping for breath, and Kurapika felt an urge to mock him but held back.
“There’s really no reason to be shocked. Back when I first met you, I noticed. When your eyes turn that lovely shade of red, your aura spikes,” Chrollo smiled, and Kurapika felt a chill down his spine. Even weak and powerless, this man’s evil leaked through so potently.
“I thought about it. No matter how you go about it, merely turning your eyes red can’t account for such a significant boost in power.”
“That’s enough!”
“What exactly did you sacrifice?”
Kurapika grit his teeth, using all his willpower to prevent his eyes from turning red. This man was as infuriating as ever, “Shut up…”
“You did sacrifice something, didn’t you? Truthfully, I’ve met many revenge-hungry brats like you before, though I must admit, you’re the most successful one. I know your type well, so if I had to wager a guess…” Chrollo pointed a finger at the blond’s heart, “You sacrificed your life, didn’t you?”
Kurapika slapped him, “What do you know?”
Chrollo laughed, “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“…So what?”
Chrollo reached out, and before he could jerk away, cusped Kurapika’s face in his hands.
“So? So then, the most beautiful thing I acquired on that day we slaughtered the Kurta was not their eyes, but you, dear Kurapika.”
“ You!” Kurapika could no longer hold back his anger, and his eyes turned scarlet. He grabbed onto Chrollo’s arm and gripped until he heard a sickening crunch of bone snapping. Still, Chrollo did not let go. His eyes shone disgustingly bright.
“Your existence is poetic, darling. The last survivor of a clan massacred for their Scarlet Eyes— instead of pursuing anything more meaningful, you willingly created a power that’ll show the enemy the eyes they so wanted to see, all while killing yourself. If that doesn’t make you a traitor to your own people, then what does? Or perhaps that makes you the most loyal Kurta of all— chasing after the same death that your friends and family suffered, so you can all die the same death together. Truly, what did I do to deserve you, Kurapika? Because I missed out on collecting the last pair of Scarlet Eyes that day, you came to me to deliver them yourself.”
“You’re fucking insane.” his heart was pounding so loud he was sure Chrollo could hear it, “You’re just trying to rile me up.”
“So what if I am?”
The Judgment Chain squeezed tight against his swelling heart, as if reminding Kurapika of his resolve. There were spiders underneath his skin, crawling out from his chest to his throat— constricting, constricting. He wanted to maim and kill. It was the all-consuming rage he felt from the age of twelve every time he so much as saw a spider. It’s easy. It’s so, so easy to just wrap his hands around that pale throat, squeeze a little and put an end to that miserable little life. What could a weak Nen-less human like him even do? What expression would be on that face as he realized Kurapika wasn’t going to let go? He hoped it was one of despair, despairing and despairing, and Kurapika would tell him he’d off the rest of his little troupe as he takes his last breath—
“Want to kill me?”
Kurapika lurched out of his bloodlust, Not good, I almost just—
Chrollo didn’t look the least bit worried, “Your eyes turned red. Is that okay?”
Jerking his head away from Chrollo’s hands, he stumbled backwards. As Kurapika stared at Chrollo’s expectant gaze, trying to calm his red eyes, he felt that it was strange. It was strange. Chrollo was sitting on a plastic fucking stool, face all bruised up and broken arm dangling uselessly by his side, yet he was able to rile up Kurapika easy as ever. Any way he thought of it, he had the upper hand here. And yet, here he was, losing precious hours off his life over that powerless man. It was just like that night in Yorknew. Even bound in chains, kidnapped and separated from his comrades, Chrollo only sat calmly while Kurapika raged and despaired.
“What do you want from me?” his voice trembled as he spoke, much to Kurapika’s dismay.
“I believe, Kurapika, the scarcer a treasure, and the harder it is to obtain, the more precious it is. It is why we steal, even when we could just as easily obtain things legitimately. There is a certain beauty in something obtained illicitly, through blood spilt, you see. It is also why we eventually sell the treasures we obtain. Each time we lay our eyes on a precious jewel, its worth depreciates. Similarly, I simply wish to slowly draw out those Scarlet Eyes of yours, through blood spilt, whether it be mine, yours, or others. Those pretty things you’ve got there, I want to watch them slowly drain the life from you, and, in the end, I want to watch them kill you.”
“That’s enough. I must’ve lost my mind to listen to a psychopath like you. I hope you get murdered Chrollo,”
Kurapika turned around sharply. It was absolutely not worth it, to waste so much of his life over one encounter with Chrollo. Kurapika left Chrollo’s apartment in a frenzy.
The pair of Scarlet Eyes he found ended up to be fake, a replica that even the owner did not know was fake. Kurapika left the pseudo-country feeling emptier than when he came.
-
The second time was an accident. Perturbed by the incident with Chrollo, Kurapika buried his worries by pursuing the Scarlet Eyes with even more fervor. Just a month after his encounter with Chrollo, he found himself locked in combat with a bodyguard of a collector. The bodyguard was an absolute mess, and he could not understand why the quivering mess of a man in the corner hired him.
He had confronted the owner of the eyes in his lavish mansion, and, piercing his heart with Judgment Chain, demanded where the eyes were. The shaking man led him to a room filled with jewels, taxidermied animals, and human body parts.
Just as he reached out for the glass cylinders containing the Scarlet Eyes, someone swung at him from out of nowhere. The fight was a mess; it was clear the bodyguard had no idea how to fight. Kurapika was unable to land a hit purely because he kept on teleporting away just as Kurapika was about to hit him with his chain.
Still, he felt uneasy because he felt the bodyguard gather up his aura in his right hand. Kurapika thought it was most likely his Hatsu or a plain old aura-shrouded punch.
Deciding to just go for it, Kurapika unleashed his chain and wrapped it around the Scarlet Eyes. Just as the chain started to retract, the bodyguard unleashed the aura in his right hand.
An emitter? Fuck, I’m screwed—
Before he knew it, darkness engulfed him. Instead of death, the darkness slowly cleared to reveal a familiar scenery. Kurapika realized with dread why the collector hired that bodyguard. That bodyguard was building up aura in his arm not for an attack, but to use his Hatsu. And it seems his Hatsu teleported Kurapika more than six thousand miles away, to Ezyv.
Kurapika thought about the astronomical odds that that bodyguard’s Hatsu turned out to be teleportation, and that he would teleport him to Ezyv. What horrible luck. Then, Kurapika supposes that he’s always had awful luck, seeing as his clan got murdered.
Luckily, the pair of Scarlet Eyes got teleported with him. Kurapika unsummoned his chains and held on to the glass container for moral support. He hoped the bodyguard got fired for that. Kurapika searched his pocket for his phone and called a colleague to arrange his flight out of the place. Kurapika cursed after he hung up. It’ll take a week for a plane to arrive.
He looked down at the pair of Scarlet Eyes. Because of the bodyguard’s abysmal fighting ability, he didn’t get particularly injured. However, he’s exhausted and in a place where everyone hates him for harassing people a month prior. He wondered how he’ll be able to protect the eyes.
He was teleported onto a beach littered with trash. He spent his nights sleeping here the last time he came here. The beach was relatively deserted, so he’ll probably be safe if he stayed there. However, if he’s spotted and recognized in the populated areas, his Scarlet Eyes would be in danger. That means food will be a problem. He could starve for a week, but he was already worn-out from his fight earlier, and if someone ambushed him while he was exhausted and hungry, it wouldn’t end well for him.
Kurapika wracked his brain for a solution, but in the end, the best one left him wanting to scratch his own eyes out. It was shameful to even think about asking Chrollo to help. It couldn’t be helped; it was for the sake of the eyes. It was ironic, Chrollo was the one who stole these eyes, but now Kurapika was turning to him in order to protect them. It was so surreal Kurapika wanted to laugh, but Kurapika was fairly certain Chrollo wouldn’t be interested in the eyes. After all, it was him who sold them in the first place. Besides, it wasn’t as if Chrollo could steal the eyes even if he tried.
Keeping that in mind, Kurapika made his way through Ezyv under the guise of Zetsu. He clutched the eyes close to his chest. He trekked through back alleys with streets so narrow the walls on both sides pressed painfully into his sides, and each step scratched up his expensive suit terribly. Kurapika pushed through, gritting his teeth, worried that if he tried turning his body his glass container would shatter.
Thankfully, he reached Chrollo’s apartment building without anyone bothering him. Walking through the doorless entrance of the building, Kurapika grit his teeth. Each step up the stairs felt like a knife burying itself deep inside his heart.
Chrollo’s door swung open long before Kurapika reached the door. Kurapika cursed underneath his breath, “Fuck, I wasn’t mentally prepared yet.”
To answer his unspoken question, Chrollo said, “Being forced into Zestu does wonders for your aura detection, especially one as… aggressive as yours.”
Upon spotting Kurapika clutching a glass tube of eyes, Chrollo brightened, face giddy like a child.
Kurapika side-eyed Chrollo’s amused expression, “Oh give it a break.”
“Is that any way to ask a favor?”
“Want me to snap your neck?”
“Do you want to?”
Kurapika scrunched up his nose, revolted, “If you’re such a masochist, why didn’t you just fucking kill yourself instead of murdering perfectly good folks?”
Glancing at Chrollo’s broken arm, haphazardly bandaged to a makeshift wooden splint, Kurapika’s heart was half torn between satisfaction and disgust.
The second time was just as strange as the first, being invited into such a place. Kurapika noticed smugly that the table now had two and a half legs; Chrollo must’ve used one of the legs as a splint for his broken arm. The poor thing was teetering, its two remaining good legs standing diagonally from each other, every footstep causing it to tremble and threaten to tip over. Even inanimate objects are miserable around Chrollo, huh?
“What’d you come back here for? Missed me?”
Kurapika snorted, “As if. I need a place to crash for a week or so.”
“Well, I must oblige, I suppose.”
Walking around the apartment, Kurapika scouted for a (relatively) clean spot. He saw an empty space by a corner, brushed away the dust and dirt with his foot, and set down his cylinder of eyes. Kurapika narrowed his eyes suspiciously when he caught Chrollo staring at them, “If you touch them, you’re dead.”
Reasoning that even Chrollo’s gaze was vile enough to sully the eyes, Kurapika removed his blazer and gingerly covered the container.
-
That night was incredibly uncomfortable. Chrollo just laid down on his weirdly yellow mattress and fell asleep, as if the man with the most incentive to kill him out of anyone in the world wasn’t right next to him.
He was really, seriously, completely disarmed. Kurpika nudged his broken arm with his foot, and was delighted when Chrollo groaned. Guess even Chrollo let down his guard in his sleep. Kurapika kept still, and Chrollo’s breathing resumed normally. He was sound asleep.
Kurapika’s heart pounded. He let his hand land gently on Chrollo’s chest, and felt the gentle rise and fall. It was wholly weird. The man below him was evil, yet he could sleep with such a peaceful expression. With those pale and unmarred hands, with his tranquil expression, he murdered in cold blood. What justice is there in this world where a psychopath could lay sleeping so disarmed yet good people died everyday? It was unfair, and Kurapika thought he ought to suffer.
His fingers traced South, and eventually hooked onto Chrollo’s sweatpants. His breath hitched, head filled with an overwhelming urge to defile this man. His hand slipped beneath the waistband and Chrollo’s eyes shot open.
“Didn’t take you for a sex offender, but we learn something new every day.”
Instantly jerking his hand back, Kurapika stood up and shuffled awkwardly away from the mattress. The word “sorry” threatened to slip out, but Kurapika couldn’t bear to be courteous to this man. Instead, he averted his gaze and cradled his hand as if he’d touched hot oil.
“What’s wrong? Not interested in groping a conscious man?”
“....”
“Really, it’s amazing how you made it this far as a hunter, a Blacklist Hunter nevertheless, with that awful control over your aura. The way your Nen spiked was enough to wake a sleeping man, you know?” he laughed, “You do know.”
“...Shut up.”
“Why don’t you continue? I can’t imagine you’re new to this sort of thing.” Chrollo smirked knowingly.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“How’d an orphaned kid like you survive?”
Kurapika felt his blood pressure rise to dangerous levels, “You–”
His upcoming torrent of nasty ( tasteful) insults got interrupted by his ringing phone. As he retrieved his phone from his pocket, Kurapika prayed to God that it was going to be a phone call from his colleague informing him that his helicopter was here a week early and that he could immediately leave, but as luck would have it, it was from Leorio. He sighed, and put the still ringing phone back in his pocket. The two stayed and stared as the phone rang.
Kurapika looked at Chrollo’s curious stare and explained, “It’s from a friend.”
There was another awkward silence as the phone went silent, only to resume ringing a few seconds later. Kurapika smiled internally at Leorio’s tenacity, calling twice despite him ignoring the other for months.
As the rings rang on, Kurapika felt the itching need to justify himself, despite the thief not saying anything.
“It’s not as if I dislike him, he’s better off this way, you see– Getting involved with my work could endanger him…” he began.
Chrollo raised an eyebrow and it made Kurapika feel guilty and then enraged immediately thereafter.
“I like hearing the rings, okay!” Kurapika yelled, louder than he meant. The rings stopped for good, and there was a pregnant pause before Kurapika heard a banging on the ceiling. A muffled voice shouted from upstairs, “Shut the fuck up!”
Kurapika looked up, unimpressed at the idea that a stranger might’ve heard all their conversations.
Chrollo smirked, “I must say, you’re an awful friend. Your parents would be ashamed.”
His resulting fury was enough to burst blood vessels in his crimson red eyes, and Kurapika raised his arm, and chains shot out. They wrapped themselves around Chrollo’s limbs, digging painfully into the skin. The chains wrapped itself around Chrollo’s broken arm so tight his splint cracked.
“How nostalgic,” Chrollo commented, “Reminds me of how we met.”
Kurapika manipulated him into a kneeling position with his arms spread out at his side.
“I really should’ve done this back then.”
The tips of Chrollo’s fingers were already turning purple from lack of circulation. Kurapika slugged Chrollo in the abdomen. Chrollo keeled over, and Kurapika dragged him up by his hair and kneed him in the same spot. Chrollo coughed out a little blood onto Kurapika’s button-up shirt and Kurapika slapped him for his transgression.
Kurapika could feel heat pooling in his groin and his face start to flush red. Dread started creeping up once again when he realized how good it felt, but Kurapika buried it with another punch. He reasoned that since it’s Chrollo, it’s probably an extension of his desire for revenge and not an indication that he actually took pleasure from harming others.
Blood was dripping from the Spider’s nose now, staining his off-white t-shirt. He lifted Chrollo’s shirt to assess the damage, and felt his erection stir when he saw the purplish blue bruises sprawling across his stomach.
Kurapika noticed it now. Chrollo was awfully gaunt. His bones jutted out of his skin awkwardly and his abs were nowhere to be seen, leaving behind a flat canvas to be sullied with bruises and blood. Malicious delight bubbled within Kurapika as he fantasized about how Chrollo must’ve starved; a lunatic like him has no means to be useful to others, which is why he steals. Without his Nen, he’s utterly worthless.
As he kicked Chrollo in the side, he thought that he was useful in one way. Kurapika lifted Chrollo’s chin, and brushed a thumb over his eyelid, long lashes tickling skin, “If I squint, you aren’t quite so ugly. Why didn’t you whore yourself out to feed yourself? Suits trash like you anyways.”
Chrollo snorted, “You let yourself go so quickly.”
Kurapika wasn’t so sure what he meant but it sounded vaguely offensive so he slapped him for good measure.
Chrollo nodded towards Kurapika’s crotch, “Getting off to such violence isn’t particularly righteous, no?”
“It’s fine since it’s you. You hardly count as human.”
Then the thought that it wasn’t enough crossed Kurapika’s mind. If this man who made him suffer so much could still talk back then it wasn’t enough. He ought to cry and beg for Kurapika to stop and even then Kurapika wouldn’t stop to spite him. The chains around Chrollo’s arm slid forward, until it wrapped around Chrollo’s finger. It wound tight until the finger turned unnaturally purple and Kurapika thought it might burst like a balloon.
“Why don’t you scream?”
An awful crunch was heard as the bone was crushed beneath the pressure, and then another awful sound as the chain pulled so tight the flesh gave out and the finger fell to the ground with a thump. It elicited a pained groan from Chrollo and Kurapika’s heart sung at the sound.
At first, there was only a slow dribble of blood as Kurapika’s chain acted as a tourniquet, and then Kurapika loosened the chains and the blood came pouring out. The smell of blood, usually nauseating, now made his head swim and he felt he could almost get high off this. Adrenaline coursed through Kurapika’s veins, and just for split second he thought that he understood these murderers. Then, that split second passed and the depravity of that thought snapped Kurapika back into reality.
Kurapika didn’t want to think about what he did. It was deplorable. To be the same as these pieces of shit that thought nothing of human life, to actively enjoy causing someone harm… It was nauseating. He was disgusted at himself, and he was disgusted at Chrollo.
His hands trembled as he lifted his arm again. This time, the chain came from his thumb, and it wrapped itself around Chrollo once again.
“Holy Chain…”
Kurapika felt bile burning in his throat. Chrollo stared on, amused at the display. The chain was engulfed in a green aura, and Chrollo’s wounds started to fade, and Kurapika wished his memory would fade along with it. Alas, the blood puddle on the floor reminded him of his deed.
“Word spread of a cunning little vixen who went around stealing Scarlet Eyes, claiming he was from the lost Kurta clan, but now I see you’re nothing more than an ill-tempered child who can’t even control his own emotions, let alone his aura.”
Kurapika glowered, already having regretted healing his injuries, “Two of your subordinates were killed by this ‘ill-tempered child’ you speak of.”
For the first time, Chrollo scowled. He paused, digesting the fact that Kurapika said “two”. Kurapika swore he saw his fingers tremble but it could be a trick of the flickering light. In a low, threatening voice, he asked, “Who was it?”
“...Pakunoda.”
There was a disconcerting silence before Chrollo spoke, “I see…”
He covered his face with his hand, “Another founding member.”
Kurapika saw a glisten of water roll down Chrollo’s cheek, and for once he did not feel satisfaction at the other’s pain. His stomach churned at the sight of Chrollo so human.
“I didn’t know you could mourn.”
Chrollo’s voice was humorless, “Is that so?”
“I did not mean for her to die,” Kurapika offered, “Judgment Chain was executed, meaning she told the other Spiders of what happened.”
Chrollo sighed, “And what should I do of this?”
“What should you do of this?”
“It’d be meaningless to kill you,” Chrollo lamented, “Because I don’t feel like killing you.”
Kurapika almost laughed at the absurdity, “You can’t kill me.”
“If it was someone else who killed Paku, someone who’s more suitable to be killed, it’d be better.” Chrollo looked over at Kurapika, “Don’t you think?”
“As usual, I don’t understand your twisted mindset.”
“You know, Kurapika, your friend once asked me how I can kill people who have nothing to do with me. It’s strange isn’t it?”
“Yes, it certainly is strange.”
“It’s a good question, and so I did a bit of thinking afterwards. I think I’ve come up with a pretty satisfactory answer.” he smiled, “It isn’t as if I always kill, Kurapika. We do consider ourselves philanthropists.”
Kurapika frowned, “What’s your point? No matter how much good you do, it still won’t offset your evil.”
“I suppose I just do what I feel. There isn’t exactly a criteria, but I believe aesthetics are important. That’s all there is to whether I murder someone or help someone, whether I steal or buy. Which one I believe is more beautiful.”
Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched at the implication that his clan got murdered for such a silly reason.
“I don’t particularly feel like doing that which goes against my instincts, not even now, Kurapika. Even back when you killed Uvo… I guess I just don’t feel the boundless rage you feel, dear Kurapika, but that is merely because you killed them.”
“Is this a love confession?” Kurapika asked sarcastically.
“I doubt I’m capable of something like love, not in the conventional sense. My point is I’m at a bit of a loss here.” he sighed, “There isn’t particularly much I can do. I can’t even bring myself to hate you.”
“You sure do love hearing yourself speak, with all these monologues of yours,” Kurapika muttered.
Kurapika’s eyelids were starting to get heavy, exhausted from an eventful day. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at the moment. His emotions were in turmoil, stuck between anger and sympathy, and he really didn’t want sympathy to win. Deciding to take a seat, he sat down next to Chrollo on his mattress, and they leant against each other back to back. Chrollo didn’t make any noise of protest so Kurapika took that as a sign that it was okay for him to sleep.
The light gave one last flicker before it died out, and the two sat in the darkness. Chrollo’s soft breathing gently lulled Kurapika into a trance, and he couldn’t tell when he closed his eyes and when he fell asleep.