Chapter Text
Golden fields, and a warm, peaceful breeze carrying the smell of summer on his skin. Kurapika watched the grain fields sway side to side, creating waves. He had never seen the ocean, but the blond struggled to imagine it could be something more beautiful than this. The outskirts of the Kurta village, deep within the Lukso province. Kurapika called it home.
“Kurapika,” A soft voice called for him from behind. He was so at peace, he nearly ignored it. But again his mother's voice called for him, more insistent. “Kurapika.” Her voice was sweet but scolding. Kurapika turned toward her, apologetic smile on his lips–
Kurapika awoke with a startle.
Ah, it had been a long time since he had had a good dream. He remembered none of it- But the feeling lingered. Remnants of it stuck with him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and his vision adjusted to the darkness.
To his right, the curtains were pinned out of the way, giving him a clear view of the night sky. The silhouettes of trees swayed in the punishing breeze, and water speckled the clear panes. It was going to storm soon.
The blond slowly rose in bed and pushed the comforters down until they gathered at his feet. No matter how tired he felt, he knew he wouldn't be able to get any more proper rest. The moment he would wake up- for any reason- he would be awake until the sun would rise and set again the next day.
Was it only insomnia? Or..
The shadows of the Spiders he had killed lingered in his peripheral, ever-eternal, haunting him. Oftentimes, they were the cause of the dreams that woke Kurapika in the middle of the night, cursing him, ruining his rest. The tall woman and that monster of a man- Pakunoda and Uvogin. He could never forget their names, their silhouettes. Remembering them soured the calm he'd woken with.
Kurapika crawled out of bed on solid legs, settling his feet into slippers. A glance at the clock on the wall showed it was only just before 3 A.M. Not unusual for him.
Kurapika slipped into the restroom for a moment to himself. In the dark, he washed his face, trying to rid himself of some of the fatigue that seemed to never leave.
Flicking the light on made him squint to adjust to the yellow light. In the mirror he could see how all of this had affected him; Heavy bags beneath his eyes, a loss of fullness in his cheeks. How long had it been since he had properly looked at himself? He didn’t remember looking so sickly, so tired.. Hatred and determination both were truly tiring, he concluded. Though, he could hardly argue that’s what was driving him anymore.
It had been barely a week since he had felt it- the loosening of the Judgement Chain wrapped around the leader of the Spiders’ heart. Even now, Kurapika wasn't in the proper mental state to know the meaning behind it. He was ashamed to admit that even he didn't know the difference in sensation from the Judgement Chain taking a victim or it somehow being removed by a third party. The Judgement Chain was meant to tie down those who couldn't be expected to understand morality. The possibility of it failing was entirely possible, but.. Kurapika was too frightened to imagine it.
Was Chrollo Lucilfer alive or dead..? Kurapika inspected the state of his character for another moment. His bangs were starting to get long again.. He would have to get his hair cut soon.
The blond struggled to feel anything but confusion and emptiness when faced with either possibility regarding the state of the Spider Head. So, for now he would have to let himself follow Melody’s advice and live in the denial of not having to think about it. For now.
Kurapika forced himself to close his eyes. Deep breath in, then out. He filled his lungs again, then.. out.. He murmured a short prayer under his breath, asking for the strength he would need to make it another day.
Perhaps he would feel better after a much needed cup of fresh tea, another chapter or so of his newest purchase... And then a warm meal from the cafe near the Nostrade estate.
The cafe would open in an hour, and that was plenty of time to tidy up. He allowed himself some excitement at the idea of a small walk after getting breakfast, if the coming rain storm passed by fast enough.
Kurapika stepped into the hall and blindly settled a hand on the light switch, but then- He felt a presence.
It had just started to rain and there was the muffled pitter-patter of raindrops against the awning outside. The dark clouds had parted since Kurapika went to the restroom, just enough to let the moonlight reveal shadows that didn't belong.
There was a man, a silhouette, sitting calmly at the edge of his own bed.. This man was so blatantly obvious Kurapika nearly missed that there were others. Another one obvious within the far corner of the room, and a third at the door behind Kurapika- Blocking him from all exits.
The rumble of rain was all he could hear. Neither he nor these intruders dared make a sound for a long moment, air thick in his lungs. The moonlight faded as clouds gathered into a thick wall of darkness. Their eyes were adjusted to the darkness, but he had the advantage of knowing the territory. Instinct told him that he had no realistic chance- There was a strength he could sense from mere experience. It made the hairs on his neck rise in apprehension.
Through numbers alone, the obvious choice was to go for the doorway- Kurapika couldn't afford wallowing in doubt and trying to assess enemies in an ambush- so that’s what he chose.
He braced against the firm doorway of the restroom and whirled round, leg going high. His shin, strong and firm, made hard contact against this stranger's block, losing his slipper in the process. Even in the dark they seemed to have seen his movements and raised an arm to keep him from kicking them in the head. So apart from strong, they were fast.
He sensed it before he could see it- a hand went for his ankle to trap him but he moved back just in time. Kurapika latched to the upper door frame with a jump and kicked out with both legs, slamming two feet into a solid chest and hurling the intruder back. In an instant there was a heavy thump and groan, but the door stayed on its hinges. Damn.
Kurapika landed nimbly on his feet and spun on his heels. Even if it wasn't hopeful to win in a 3-on-1 against adversaries like this- their presence alone showed their strength- The most hope he had was to slow them down until he had better chances. The small knife concealed in his sleeve slipped into hand and he raised his arm back, ready to let the blade fly.
His arm stopped.
Sharp and tight, something held round his wrist and kept his arm in place, raised high beside his head. Kurapika resisted, tried to grab for whatever held him but restraints formed again on his right hand. Every move seemed to tighten something- like thread.
“If you keep moving, you'll get injured.” A calm voice in the darkness warned him. Kurapika went stiff. The voice, a woman's, added after, “The more you move, the more I'm tightening it. Don't blame me if you lose a limb and bleed out.”
Kurapika's chest heaved with heavy breaths and there, too, he could feel the thinnest of threads wrapped around him, threatening to slice through cloth and skin and into his ribcage. Too late to truly do him any good, Kurapika concentrated aura toward his eyes to see.
Thin strands of Nen filled the room like a spider's web, littering the space with traps. Kurapika realized as he saw them that no matter how he had chosen to move, he had been caught the moment he'd entered the hall. It would have been only a matter of time before he would render himself immobile without the intruders moving a muscle. Embarrassment and shame burned his cheeks at the fact he could have seen them- if only he were more level headed.
“You–..” He started, but a boyish voice groaned behind him. Kurapika jolted and went silent, the threads of nen threatening to pull tighter around his waist in consequence.
“Boss,” The young man behind him called in an almost-pathetic whine. It infuriated Kurapika how this stranger sounded almost playful. He never walked into eyesight, staying right behind the blond.
“Don't you think bringing me was overkill?” The one behind him protested, sounding like a child being dragged on an errand. “You and Machi could have handled it all on your own.” Fabric rustled like he was brushing himself off, “It just feels like you brought me just to get hit.”
“We all have our own jobs,” The woman answered. Kurapika wondered briefly if she was the ‘Boss’ the other was whining to but that didn't seem right. She was strong, but she paled in comparison to the one who stayed still; calmly seated and unmoving throughout this charade. She would be Machi, then. “Sometimes it's just your job to get hit.”
Their voices sounded familiar- tickling Kurapika's memories for faces he couldn't bring to mind. But what frustrated him more was the fact that here he was, right in the middle of the room and they didn't see him as a potential threat. It was insulting, more infuriating than how easily he had been caught in the first place.
“Excuse me,” Kurapika cut in, voice firm. Tone not at all polite as the words he spoke. “I won't be of any use as a hostage, but the Nostrade Family–”
“You're not a hostage. Nor do we care about the Nostrade Family.” A voice, calm and smooth, finally spoke up, interrupting Kurapika.
That voice, his voice, was what finally conjured a strong memory- crisp and clear. Kurapika could feel the hairs rise on the back of his neck, skin prickling. It was impossible to calm his own heart as it quickened with rage, his angry pulse reverberating into his ears. He didn't need to see Chrollo's face to know it was him. He recognized pieces of the man's silhouette as he stood from Kurapika's bed. Kurapika could feel the intense burn of his ill-contained rage and he knew from the painful ache- his eyes were red in an instant.
“You..!!” Kurapika's throat hurt with the force of his own growl. The sting of threads slicing into skin was nothing compared to his newfound determination- to stick his knife right into the face of that Troupe leader right where he stood. The woman- Machi- holding him back strained to tighten threads without injuring him further. He could already feel the heat of blood seeping down his sleeve.
Chrollo slipped a bookmark between parchment and shut the pages of a heavy book he seemed to have been reading this entire time. Kurapika's novel, he could tell from the moonlight. He’d been reading Kurapika's own book as he carried out a kidnapping. And he had put in his own bookmark, at a spot apart from Kurapika's own. The heaviness in the blond's stomach was enough to make him vomit.
“If I'm not a hostage,” Kurapika argued, pushing further. The woman let some threads slip. So the threat of taking a limb was a bluff. “Why aren't you killing me? You people have no qualms hurting others.”
“Shit- Shalnark, just stick him already! This guy's gonna kill himself.” She called out.
“R-Right!”
Kurapika didn't acknowledge their words. He was glaring into the abyss of Chrollo's eyes, daring him to answer. In them he could see his own, a pure and angry scarlet, reflecting back. The Spider had the gall to only chuckle at his taunting. “What? You can't tell?”
Kurapika snarled, ready to tell him off for that attitude- the utter cockiness- but only got to open his lips before the sharp end of a needle burned its way into his neck.
His vision went black.