Chapter Text
Kurapika woke up in the early morning just before the sun started to rise. He often awoke at such an hour to ensure time for his morning foraging. Quietly he arose from his spot on the stained and spotted floor and began his trek down into the basement in search of moss. The foraging crop had grown weaker since the other three picklers had joined the home, and Kurapika sometimes found himself missing the days when the moss and mold was plentiful on the cellar walls. Now the root cellar was renovated, the floors no longer dirt, functional lightning added, and most tragically, the moss cleaned away. Despite his reminiscing for the good old days of moss and mold, Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to mind his new pickling family, although he knew it would be better if he did. He hadn’t had a family since the Phantom Picklers had decimated his clan. The Phantom Picklers…he would face them once again at the Pickle x Pickle exam, and if he played his cards right, honed his anger and focus, he could finally have his vinegar flavored revenge.
Once he was safely inside the confines of the root cellar, Kurapika began to graze on the little moss he could find, and upon having his fill, he dug underneath one of the floorboards to reveal his stash of fine literature. Although Kurapika had never gone to school, he had honed his wit through these incredible tomes: dictionaries, thesauruses, and steamy werewolf romances (twilight), all brilliant in their prose and imagery. He had always kept these books, his most prized possessions save for his pickling gear, well hidden, first buried in the dirt and now under in the floorboards. He knew his new family wouldn’t harm his books, well, Leorio might because he was dumb and illiterate, but he still couldn’t bring himself to trust them fully. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to stay completely focused on his pickling mission. For the last seven years he had done nothing but pickle, honing his skills for this very moment, and he couldn’t throw it all away now, not for something as plebeian as friendship or love and affection.
“Are you more of an Edward or a Jacob man?” A voice echoed from the top of the stairs. Kurapika wanted to hide the Twilight but it was too late, Leorio was already approaching him.
“Who’s Jacob?” Kurapika asked feigning confusion and bewilderment, denial was his only defense. As he spoke he shoved the Twilight into the dirt, carefully burying it. Thankfully, Leorio was tactful enough to change the subject.
“Why are you hiding out down here? Are you nervous about the exam?” Right, the pickle x pickle exam began today, how could he have forgotten?
“I am now,” he said and began to shiver in his boots.
“This exam is important to you isn’t it? More than just for the license,” Leorio was surprisingly deductive, and suddenly feeling caught, Kurapika felt the need to explain what he had hidden earlier.
“Well, to put it simply, as you may know the pickle x pickle exam functions as a competition containing three strenuous pickling stages. In line with its competition nature, there will only be one winning group who is awarded their official pickling licenses, the others will go home empty handed. I received an anonymous tip that informed me that this year the Phantom Picklers are competing for their chance to win their own licenses. This is my chance to confront them, and get my revenge by beating them in pickle combat!” Kurapika explained, eyes shining with fury and determination.
“That means we have no choice but to win! We’re going to be the greatest picklers they’ll have ever seen,” Leorio clapped him on the shoulder and Kurapika nearly fell forward onto his face, his body weak from years of moss. He was right, there was no other way, they were going to win the exam, no matter the cost.
The van for the pickle x pickle exam arrived at 7 that morning, and as the group entered they were swiftly clocked in the head, knocking them all out. The location of the pickle exam was to remain a closely guarded secret. Some unknown amount of time later Kurapika came to only to find himself laying on warm concrete. As he slowly rose to his feet he saw in front of him a terrible and bone rattling sight. The other contestants too were beginning to wake and stood trembling as they took in the horror that would be the pickle x pickle competition. Nearly beyond feeble human comprehension, the pickle x pickle patented obstacle course stretched out into the distance. Five terrifying obstacles surrounded by the foulest of pickling water. Of all the eldritch machinations before them, the worse by far was the dreaded Big Red Balls…except… now… they were GREEN.
Gon was the next to awake and his eyes widened as he stared at the Balls. “Woah gee whiz are those the famous Big Red Balls?” he asked.
“I believe so, but it's too early to be sure. We need to stay vigilant,” Kurapika answered, still looking warely at the Balls. Beside him, Leorio and Killua were waking up as well, and he watched as they underwent the five stages of grief upon sighting the Big Balls.
“Holy shit look at those,” Leorio screamed, barely restraining himself from bursting into tears.
An eerie voice arose from the Ball on the far left, in a haunting intonation it spoke: “Welcome to the pickle x pickle exam. Whomever’s group manages to pass and win all of our trials will be rewarded with the invaluable pickle x pickle branded pickling licenses. Your first challenge will be to reach the end of the great pickle x pickle wipeout course. If you can reach the pickled good at the end of the course without being pickled ™ you will pass this stage. Good luck!”
Beside him, Leorio shook, his eyes were hazy, as if in some kind of flashback. Kurapika grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently, after several hard shakes he seemed to return to normal. “What was wrong with you?” he asked.
Leorio seemed very secretive before he finally confessed, “I have trauma to do with people being pickled. It's no big deal though.” he said convincingly.
“Oh cool.” Kurapika began to examine the crowd in search of the Phantom Picklers-- and they proved difficult to miss. The 13 of them were all wearing leather jackets with the words “Phantom Picklers <3” embroidered carefully into them. Kurapika’s blood boiled and he shook with rage and anger, how could they be so bold? After everything they had done to him?
“We need to focus Kurapika, that’s the only way we’ll stand a chance at beating them,” Leorio reminded him and Kurapika snapped back into action.
One by one the contestants began to line up and try their hand against the various brutal pickling obstacles. They were quickly proving no match however, as more and more fell from the foam platforms into the pickling fluid below. All of a sudden one man, sauntered up to the starting platform. His gait was peculiar, resembling a man who has just gotten off a horse. Something about him was… off. It was just as Gon asked that Kurapika realized the terrible truth.
“Why does that clown walk so funny?” Gon asked innocently.
“Well Gon,” Kurapika started, unsure how to broach the topic to the boy.
“Well you see,” Leorio began and then faltered, seemingly struggling to crush the boy’s delicate innocence.
“Listen Gon. Not everyone uses pickles for the same thing. Most people are normal and eat them,, but some people, they, use pickles for other things.” Killua choked out the words.
“Gon. There are some savages in this world, who….do not appreciate the sanctity of the pickle like we do. They…” Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to finish.
“You mean that clown has a pickle up his ass?!? 😲😲” Gon screamed. Shocked and devastated. He fell to the ground and began to pound on it with his fists. Tears ran down his cheeks. “Why? How could he?” The child sobbed.
“I'm so sorry son,” Leorio did his best to comfort him but it was no use. Gon was broken. As the group watched in horror, the clown nimbly, despite his strange walk, slipped past each obstacle, carefully avoiding the vinegar below. When he finally reached the haunting Big Red (Green) Balls he ran across them with incredible ease, especially given his…condition. As he reached the end of the course, sailing across the finish line, he grabbed a pickled object from a small box and held it triumphantly in the air. It was too far away to see what exactly the item was, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that this course, hard as it was, wasn’t impossible. The Big Red (Green) Ball announced the clown’s time, an impressive 2 minutes and 46 seconds.
“I’m going next!” Gon announced. “That clown is going to pay for what he did to me!”. He ran towards the starting platform and slid down it. He sailed across the first few platforms, floating suspended in pickling secretion. As he neared the first true obstacle, a wall covered in violent swinging fists, threatening to punch the poor boy into the thick vinegar, he dodged nimbly, his small stature allowing him to avoid the majority of the hits. Similar to the dreaded Balls, the next obstacle featured a set of sliding rectangular foam blocks, which tilted to and fro. There was no choice but to attempt to run straight across. Gon set off flying, but slipped on the third block. Kurapika gasped as he fell onto his face, and Killua burst into tears. Gon’s limp body rolled onto the edge of the block, as the whole platform began to lean towards the foul, stinking pickling water. Just as Kurapika was sure all hope was lost, Gon grabbed onto the edge of the foam with his many teeth. And by sheer force of jaw alone was able to yank himself back to his feet.
Leorio let out a breath next to Kurapika and began to fan himself in distress. “Gee, that was a close one! If he didn’t have such good dental health, he would have been a GONer for sure!”
“Don't say things like that! You’ll manifest it!” Kurapika scolded him.
As they watched Gon carefully traversed the rest of the platforms and maneuvered to the most skin rattling obstacle of them all: the Balls. There were four of them. Rumor had it that each Ball had a different name and temperament, but that mattered not to Kurapika. All that mattered was that Gon crossed that green gateway to hell safely.
Gon slowly observed the Balls, and then made a demure leap onto the first of the four. For a moment, Kurapika feared the worse, but those fears passed as Gon stabilized and rose again to his feet. With the same great care he leaped onto the third ball, and then the second. As he reached the fourth ball, the clown suddenly made eye contact with the boy.
“Tee hee, you know why you’re so slow at crossing the Balls? It’s because you don’t have a pickle with you!” The clown mocked him and honked his nose in Gon’s direction. Gon’s face turned red with rage.
“You bastard!” He screamed. “You’re sick! You took everything from me. My innocence, my sanctity of mind. My peace and my childhood. You’ll pay for this bozo!” Without a thought for his own safety Gon took a careless leap onto the fourth ball, and then, stumbling, onto the next platform. Even when he made the jump he didn’t stop, racing towards the final obstacle: a block of foam connected to a rope. He would have to grab hold of it and swing to the finishing zone. Not even slowing for a moment Gon sailed into the air and grabbed hold of the foam, once again using his trusty teeth. Like an angry chihuahua on a pant leg he soared across the vinegar and landed cleanly onto the final platform, and proudly reached his hand into the box. The clown honked his nose and slapped his large shoes as if in a clap. The Ball announced his time: 5 minutes and 2 seconds, it was way off of the clown’s, but passing at all was a success.
“Wow! He did great!” Leorio nudged Kurapika. “Way to go sport!” He yelled across the course, and Gon did a somersault in response.
Kurapika turned from Gon’s celebration to see one of the Phantom Picklers move to cross the course. Not a chance. He thought. And pushed past ,Leorio running to block the Phantom Pickler. “Kurapika wait!” Leorio shouted but Kurapika kept walking. Sorry Leorio, but I have to do this, for my clan.
Kurapika took off running before anyone could stop him. Sliding angelically down the patented pickle x pickle slide. The first several platforms were easy for someone with his intellect, however he needed to internally strategize for how to best avoid the rapid-fire fists. He wasn’t as small as Gon and would need a different tactic. He brilliantly decided to just take the punches head on. When the first fist hit him he realized a hole in his strategy. Kurapika was a man who had survived on virtually nothing but moss, mold, and pickles for seven years, and he was in poor physical shape. His bones were like well compacted dust, and his muscles were nothing more than shriveled sacks. The first punch hit him like a truck, and he nearly blacked out, falling flat on the ground. There was a positive to this. Now, so low to the floor, it was difficult for him to be hit again, so Kurapika slowly dragged himself along the ground until he was past the brutal fists.
With a less than impressive performance thus far, he now had to tackle the next obstacle. Kurapika knew about physics, and through deduction deduced that it would be best to remain in the middle of the blocks, lest they tilt and throw him into the substances below. Filled with knowledge he was able to traverse the blocks with ease, and came face to face with the Big Red (Green) Balls. They were even more horrifying close up, and seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. The air around them was stagnant and Kurapika’s hair stood on end. He couldn’t stop his heart from pounding. There had been few times in his life when he had felt real fear: the death of his clan, Gon’s near demise via pipe, Leorio forcing him to shower for the first time, but this. This was something else entirely. He was petrified.
The memory of his clan surfaced, their sacred pickling methods, his parents. He had to do this for them, he had to stop the Phantom Picklers. There was also his newfound family, Leorio, Killua and Gon. He couldn’t destroy this opportunity for them because of his own fear. He had to do this. Slowly, he adjusted for the wind velocity and angle of the Earth’s rotation, and jumped. The first ball was not a stable surface and he bounced slightly upon landing. Terrified, he grabbed hold as tightly as he could using all of his moss-fed strength. On shaking legs he reoriented, and made his second death-defying leap to the third ball. And, he froze. Only two balls in and he knew he couldn’t go any farther. This was the end of the line. He couldn’t continue. Suddenly, Kurapika heard a voice, screeching at him from the gathering of pickling wannabes.
“You go baddie!” Leorio said to him.
Right, he could do this. Edward hadn’t given up and neither would he. He just had to believe in himself. Carefully, he repeated the same process as before and landed on the second ball, and then the fourth. By the time he crossed he was shaking, but he had made it. Leorio gave him a thumbs up! Wow. The final task now stood ahead of him. Luckily, Kurapika had physics on his side and was able to easily swing to victory. Gon clapped his feet together in victory. Kurapika turned and reached his hand into the box, pulling out a delicately pickled stick of mozzarella cheese. Seeing that Gon and the clown had already consumed their own cheeses, he bit into the confection. The flavor of the cheese was like nothing else he had ever experienced. Was this what licensed pickling tasted like?
“Good job Kurapika!” Gon gave him a hug and the clown honked. As his time was announced: 6 minutes and 51 seconds. Kurapika allowed himself to bask in his simple victory. They still had a long way to go. But for now, he had done it.
Killua and Leorio were the next two to attempt the course. Killua passed with the group’s best time yet with 4 minutes and 16 seconds, and Leorio with their worst, barely surviving the Balls at 11 minutes and 28 seconds. They were far from the only people to complete the course. Out of the 300 contestants, nearly 200 were able to pass, including all but one of the Phantom Picklers. Things were far from over, no, they were just beginning. The cucumber was beginning to pickle.