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On the anniversary of when Kurapika and Kuroro encountered each other in Yorknew—on that fateful night overcast with death—a baby takes his first breath.
After months of anticipation, Kurapika meets the second heir to the Kuruta clan. He’s born red-faced and wailing, with a crying voice so deafening that it resounds through the delivery room despite his lungs being so small.
His small body is bloodied, but this time, the blood isn’t from violence and death, but from something as precious as birth. After cleaning him and swaddling him in a white blanket, the physician passes the baby over to him with her congratulations.
Kurapika cradles the bundle in his arms, smiling wearily. He’s tired and sore all over, perhaps more so than any fight or encounter he had on the Black Whale all those years ago. He had gone through this once before with their daughter Runa, and Kurapika is thankful for a healthy birth this time when he remembers the complications from Runa being born sick and small.
“Hello, baby Sol,” Kurapika manages to say, in his quietest voice. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
Sol is a fierce and angry thing, looking neither like Kurapika and Kuroro and both of them at the same time. He’s heavier than Runa had been in his arms, larger and louder in every way. Kurapika strokes his cheek with one hand, and Sol suddenly stops crying in his arms, his eyes still closed.
Moments later, Kuroro arrives at his bedside, holding their daughter’s hand. Kuroro would have chosen to remain with him in the delivery room, but with Runa here, they decided it would be better for them to wait outside.
Kuroro’s expression visibly softens, dispelling the worry that Kurapika imagines to have been plaguing him from waiting these last few hours. He reaches out to brush Kurapika’s sweat-dampened bangs away from his forehead and leans down to press a kiss against Kurapika’s flushed skin.
Runa looks from him to Sol with quiet adoration, her red eyes intenser than usual with a jewel-bright scarlet. The first time her eyes changed, Kuroro nearly died protecting her. Only now the Scarlet Eyes have manifested from all-consuming love instead of the fear and fury that no child should ever have to know. It’s living proof of Kurapika’s bloodline, and how much things have changed for his clan.
“Would you like to hold him?” Kurapika offers.
There’s a moment of hesitation, before Kuroro nods.
Kuroro takes Sol in his arms, carefully supporting the back of his head with his hand. Sol immediately voices his discontent in being held by someone other than Kurapika, and Kuroro pauses for a moment before bringing him closer to his chest, soothing him with his warmth.
There’s a small ache in Kurapika’s heart, from remembering how Runa was born so small that Kuroro acted as though she would break if he touched her. But instead of trembling hands, Kuroro’s hands are steady as he settles Sol against his chest. He gazes down at Sol as if he were a precious jewel, and the fondness in his eyes makes Kurapika’s chest feel full.
“That’s a handsome baby,” Kuroro says, his words sounding tight in his throat.
Kurapika’s voice is warm with mirth. “He takes after his handsome father.”
Kuroro gently smooths out Sol’s black hair over his head.
“He has my hair,” Kuroro murmurs with fascination in his tone, looking up at him the same way that he looks at Sol, completely besotted as if Kurapika is the most beautiful person in the world. He would feel that way, if not for the hair mussed around his face and shadows darkening his eyes from his lack of sleep and the rigors of labor and delivery.
“Let’s hope it isn’t thin like yours. We wouldn’t want him to bald early,” Kurapika answers wryly.
Kuroro lets out a chuckle, but the sound catches in his throat. He’s staring at Sol again, and he blinks several times before his dark eyes glisten with tears.
He draws in a small breath before speaking again. “Hello, Sol,” Kuroro murmurs. “I—I’m your Papa.”
And Kurapika knows that he will live up to that title. He’s proud of everything they have accomplished with their family, and the new life they created together against all odds.
Kuroro’s tears fall from his eyes, landing on Sol’s face. Sol opens his eyes from the impact of Kuroro’s tears, seeing his father for the first time. He has the same eyes as Kurapika, and somehow, that makes Kuroro more sentimental.
It amuses Kurapika to see Kuroro so overwhelmed because of someone so small, but he’s also heartened by the sight of it. His chest swells with a surge of warmth, and there’s no greater feeling in the world than this. The first time he ever witnessed Kuroro crying was when Runa was born, and now this is the second. It’s this earnestness of his that claimed Kurapika’s heart, this love that Kurapika believed him to be incapable of, so antithetical to the man he first met in Yorknew. How far Kuroro has come, holding the promise of a better future in his arms.
“I already have one baby to take care of,” Kurapika admonishes him with a laugh. “Don’t tell me I have another.”
Kuroro sniffles, unable to answer. Runa stares at him, taken aback at Kuroro’s reaction when this is the first time she has ever seen Kuroro cry.
“I didn’t know Papa could be such a crybaby.”
Kuroro laughs, sounding a little like a sob. His loss of composure must be startling to her.
“Did you know, Runa?” Kurapika gives her a small smile. “Kuroro cried when you were born, too.”
Runa looks at him in disbelief, then notices Sol staring at her despite being in Kuroro’s arms. Kurapika gives her an encouraging look, and she holds out her hand to him.
“I’m your big sister, baby Sol. Welcome home.”
Sol instinctively grasps her hand with his tiny fingers, smiling for the first time. Runa’s eyes widen with fascination, a childish awe that Kurapika loves seeing when she rarely expresses it on her face.
“He’s really cute, Daddy,” Runa says, looking at Kurapika for affirmation.
“Both of you are,” Kuroro says, still teary. “I’ll do my best to make you smile too, Sol.”
Sol makes a small sound, as if holding him up to that promise.
Lifting Runa up in his arms, Kuroro helps her gain greater visibility into the newborn nursery. She presses her hands against the large glass window, peering into the room of sleeping babies. “Do you know which one is your little brother?”
“Of course,” Runa discerns with her sharp eyes. “He’s the cutest one here.”
Even when Sol is swaddled in a white blanket with the indistinguishable features of an infant, Runa is able to tell him apart from all the others. Kurapika mentioned that their son has an uncanny resemblance to him besides his hair, but Kuroro thinks that it’s too early to tell, when all he can see are the wisps of black hair peeking beneath his knitted hat and his plump cheeks. Even in the first moments that Runa was born, he remembers Kurapika pointing out that she shared his features.
“Are we leaving him here?” Runa asks with a light frown.
“He’s not coming home until tomorrow,” Kuroro tells her. “The nurses are taking care of him so that Kurapika can get some rest.”
Runa turns to him, wearing a very serious expression on her face. “Should we steal him?”
Kuroro blinks. It’s not everyday that she asks for something like this, when she always acts with as much propriety as Kurapika. “Should we?”
Kurapika wakes up to frantic nurses claiming that his baby has been kidnapped.
When all of the other newborns are still sleeping, safe and sound in their bassinets, only Kurapika’s baby is absent from the nursery room. He asks for time alone in his hospital room to make a phone call to his partner.
“What did you do?” Kurapika demands over the phone.
“Runa wanted to see her little brother,” Kuroro explains with a soft laugh. “He seemed lonely in the nursery, so we decided to take him.”
Kurapika presses a hand against his throbbing temple. “There’s no way that Runa would ever persuade you to do such a thing.”
Kuroro teases him with a reminder. “She’s still a child, too, after all.”
Kurapika realizes that he’s right.
But he decides to blame Kuroro for his bad influence instead of faulting their daughter.
“Kuroro,” Kurapika says in warning. “I thought that you wanted me to rest after all the trouble I went through, but you’re only making things more difficult.”
There’s a considerate pause on the other end of the line, before Kuroro answers again.
“Alright, my love,” Kuroro answers soothingly, always using those sweet terms of endearment whenever he hopes to placate him. “I’m sorry for stressing you out. I’ll give him back, so you can go back to sleep, alright? I’ll come by again later tonight to see you.”
“Yeah,” Kurapika says with mild wariness. He rests back against the pillows and closes his eyes, feeling some of the tension escape his body. “You better.”
An hour later, baby Sol Lucifer reappears in his bassinet in the newborn nursery as if nothing ever happened. It just so happens that none of the surveillance footage captured the perpetrator, when all of the cameras in the corridors and nursery had been damaged. Even the security officers failed to find a single suspect even after questioning everyone in the vicinity.
After the surveillance cameras are reinstated, the perpetrator manages to evade them again, returning the baby without leaving any evidence of their presence. All of the hospital staff offer Kurapika profuse apologies for their negligence, and even the upper management request a visit to his room to express their regrets—presumably to avoid an expensive lawsuit—but Kurapika declines their visit in his exhaustion. Perhaps it would have been better to stay at his old hospital after all, where Cheadle would have been able to handle the delivery and prevent Kuroro from touching the baby. To ensure Sol’s safety, the nurses move him to Kurapika’s room so that he can remain with his father for the rest of their hospital stay.
At the end of the day, Kurapika is finally alone again, besides the condolence and sympathy gifts he received from everyone in the hospital. But all of these gifts remain untouched on his bedside table, when nothing is more important than having his baby at his side.
Kurapika peers over the bassinet beside his bed, finding that transferring rooms has stirred his baby from sleep. Sol opens his eyes and looks up at him, blinking at him languidly to clear away the traces of slumber. There’s a moment where Kurapika expects him to wail the same way he did earlier, but Sol only lets out a wide yawn.
“I hope you don’t turn out to be a menace like your father,” Kurapika murmurs, a touch of exasperation in his tone.
Hearing the sound of his voice, Sol’s face brightens with a small smile, as if promising that he will absolutely grow up to be a troublemaker. Kurapika can’t help but smile too—because even if he does, he and Kuroro and Runa will still love him all the same.
Kurapika promises that his children will grow up in a time of peace and endless love. They will never know the pain of losing their parents and losing themselves for the sake of vengeance, because the last thing he wants in this world is for them to feel alone. He would live for them and do anything for them, just as Kuroro would.
Kuroro isn’t the only one who has grown. How far Kurapika himself has come, willing to live for someone instead of dying for revenge and the memories of his ghosts. Thinking about how much further he could go with Kuroro at his side, makes him feel certain about his family’s future.
He gently pats Sol on the stomach, soothing him to sleep. In his softest voice, in the language of his people, Kurapika blesses him with a healthy life and tells him how much he is loved.
Kurapika leans down to kiss Sol on the forehead. “Good night, baby. I will always be here for you, no matter what happens.”
Sol coos in response, before falling asleep again. Kurapika smiles to himself, looking forward to bringing him home tomorrow.
