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XXX
The only thing I have left of them is the pain. When it simmers in my body, I know that they exist. I admit, I’m not quite ready to let go yet.
A crescent moon eclipsed the black sky with its light, draping silver over the sea. Moonlight spilled across the water like fluorescent ink. Kurapika watched the way the light moved on the surface, in ripples, in waves. He watched from the small wooden boat that carried him in the middle of the endless expanse of water.
The sour chill soaked everything the air touched with its bite. Kurapika pulled the Kurta robes tighter against his frail body in an attempt to block the discomfort. His movement was borne more out of habit than necessity. It didn’t really matter to him if he was physically cold. Kurapika, being too tired to wear fury for armor, had unearthed the strange realization that he didn’t have it in him to care what happened to himself anymore.
“Make sure you bundle up warm, Pika.” His mother would remind him affectionately in another life, squeezing him firmly in her arms.
How strange that all those years later, he could still remember the things that she said, but the voice behind them was gone. Kurapika could recall the unique way she’d deliver her words, breathy, her tone lilting upwards ever so slightly at the end of her sentences. But he couldn’t conjure the actual sound no matter how hard he tried. It was locked in another world, one that existed solely in the faulty confines of his own mind.
An overwhelming sense of nothing stretched all the way to the horizon in every direction. A stillness blanketed the world, one that echoed a poignant, bone-deep loneliness. It mirrored the absence of another person… and maybe even the absence of a person within himself.
In another world, he might grow frantic and he might be scared. He was, after all, stranded in the middle of the sea without provisions, without a life jacket, without anything but the robes his forefathers gave him before they were slaughtered like cattle. However… in a strange way, nothing had truly felt real since they’d died. Maybe some part of him died too all those years ago, even as his body remained - pumping blood and using up oxygen.
It didn’t matter where he went or what he did anymore. Pairo wouldn’t see it. His mother wouldn’t see it. Nobody would see it. For all he knew, in the middle of the endless expanse of inky water, Kurapika might just be the only living thing to exist in the world anymore. That is, if he could be considered a living thing, after all.
He wasn’t quite sure that he could.
The last Kurta turned, absentmindedly reaching out to brush his fingers against the black water. It was cold enough to scorch the tips of his fingers, the contact shooting bursts of pain through them as quickly as a lightning strike. Startled, Kurapika jolted backwards a bit too far.
Before he knew what had happened, he was plunged into the icy, black water. It seared every inch of his skin and yanked relentlessly at his robes. Kurapika’s lungs ached and struggled against water he’d accidentally inhaled. His limbs thrashed, fighting instinctively against a current that rose to fight him in equal measure.
A strange desperation blossomed in his chest. Fight that had drained out of him completely was once again rearing its head. The reactive instinct to live, whatever that meant, thundered viscerally through him.
I admit, I’m not quite ready to let go yet.
XXX
All it took was the first gasping breath for Kurapika to ascertain that he had, in fact, been dreaming. There was no ache in his lungs, no water to be coughed up, and no painfully icy chill that seeped down to his bones. All he had was a thundering heart and scratchy, pinstriped sheets tucked over him.
The room he lay in was quiet, dark, and relatively empty. There was one bed, one dresser, a suitcase full of the eyes of his fallen brethren, and a small bag of his scant belongings propped up against the wall. The ceiling and walls were eggshell white - the same color as the shuttered blinds. It took Kurapika a few minutes to remember that he wasn’t in another hotel room. Instead, he was camped out in the guest bedroom in Leorio’s place, which was its own kind of prison.
Kurapika was no stranger to isolation or dark places, but for some reason, he found the hollowness of the foreign room particularly perturbing after the imagery of his dream. It was silly, of course. He was too old to be rattled by nightmares. But still, he found himself getting up restlessly and drifting out of the room.
Dressed in simple oversized pajamas that Leorio had kindly offered him upon his unannounced arrival, he ambled down the hallway like a ghost in the middle of the night, haunting the halls of another’s home. Soft, padding footsteps led him quietly into a room full of belongings that he observed, as if through a looking glass.
Kurapika reached out to trail his fingers over the top of the marble counter, solidifying it in his senses as he observed his surroundings. In the kitchen, dishes were wedged in the sink and the trash can was nearly full. Errant nails peppered the walls. The hum of the refrigerator and the noisy clunking sound of the ice maker kept the room from achieving a true state of silence. Everything around the last Kurta was teeming with the evidence of life.
The refrigerator itself was covered with pictures, each held by a series of mismatched magnets. So many different faces were featured in his photographs. Leorio was, after all, the kind of person who collected people to care about.
Kurapkia’s stomach twisted when he caught sight of a few people he recognized in a photograph. Gon, Killua, and another (who must be Killua’s sister) all smiled side-by-side. They looked a lot older than when he’d last seen them years earlier. How strange it was to see a snapshot of them living and grown. They exuded an inexhaustible sense of life-force and joy that could be viscerally felt through observing the image alone.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled like that… nor could he remember the last time he’d made time for a person who wasn’t a business partner or a victim. Every deliberate action had driven him deeper and deeper underground, surgically removing himself from his own sense of humanity.
Over the past few years, Kurapika’s existence had been a roller coaster of strategic planning, vengeance, and acquisition. Fury was the fuel that allowed him to propel himself forward, always moving towards his next goal - whether that was obtaining his brethren’s eyes or wreaking havoc on the Phantom Troupe. It was all in the name of justice. His fury had been potent enough to splinter the earth. The icy rage was all-consuming, strong enough to bury everyone in its path, including and especially himself.
Once he’d finally achieved his goal of obtaining every last set of Scarlet Eyes - once he’d brutally murdered one of the Spiders that had assisted in ripping his clan from the face of the earth - Kurapika found no resolution. There was no salvation. There was no relief in his knowledge, there was no thrill in vengeance, and there was no peace in acquisition. Instead, the more he gave into his almost feral need for justice, the more he found his own life-force draining away, leaving him a barren wasteland with a traitorous beating heart.
Inevitably the anger drained too. He came to realize that It had been a shield, one designed to protect him from the other dangerous things under the surface - things that he didn’t know how to face. The loneliness, a mirror built like a cage. His grief, an ocean he didn’t know how to maneuver. His sadness settled like sediment, ready to be stirred up at any given moment.
The Kurta had never truly faced what he’d gone through. He’d never learned to sit with the knowledge in acceptance, nor did he learn how to take incremental steps towards closure. Now, he couldn’t escape the paralyzing, heartrending void.
Kurapika swallowed and took a shuddering breath, eyes flickering away from the pictures. With steady, deliberate steps, he made his way to the living room. On the coffee table, there was a stack of medical texts. Piles of papers (covered with a sloppy script that sloped across them at unconventional angles) surrounded the books and found themselves wedged in any errant space between.
On the white leather couch, there was a mass of half-folded laundry. A handful of shirts were neatly, crisply folded. The others… were casualties, and Leorio would certainly have to iron them to get rid of the wrinkles they’d accumulated. An involuntary half-smile tugged at Kurapika’s lips as he reached out to graze his fingers over the cloth.
“Feel free to move them so you can sit down.” A tired voice caught him off-guard. Kurapika flinched, hands pulling back reactively.
“I apologize. I shouldn’t be going through your things. I had no right-” Kurapika began. For some reason, the sense of being caught-in-the-act made him feel distinctly like a child, sneaking a cookie from the tin.
“Nonsense,” Leorio interjected, yawning and waving his hand. The casualness in his tone, his body language, said it was normal to wake up in the middle of night, only to find someone he hadn’t hardly spoken to more than a couple times over the last few years snooping through his belongings. However, Kurapika doubted that was the case. “Like I said before, my house is your house. My things are your things.”
With a burst of blue aura, the light in the kitchen flickered on, filling the room with faint orange glow. It took Kurapika a moment for his brain to make the connection that Leorio had used some sort of emitter ability to accomplish that.
“I see that you’ve worked on developing your Nen abilities.” Kurapika commented.
“Yeah, I have. I’ve gotten used to the convenience, for sure.” Leorio said, half-smile and a hint of pride. The man leaned over and scooped the piles of laundry off the couch, transferring them instead to the already full coffee table. Kurapika couldn’t help but notice that the carefully folded articles were losing their form in the heap.
“There’s no need, Leorio. I should just-“
“Sit,” Leorio said firmly, gesturing towards the seat. Kurapika did. With a quiet and carefully coordinated series of movements, he perched himself on the edge of the sofa, back ramrod straight and hands folded delicately in his lap. “So, you want to tell me why you aren’t sleeping?”
Kurapika froze, eyes glued to his own hands and they sat twined together. The bluntness caught him off guard.
“I… I had a nightmare.” He admitted.
Leorio’s eyes softened.
“Well, then, why don’t I make you some warm milk with honey? My mom used to fix that for me when I had nightmares as a kid.”
The man didn’t ask Kurapika where he’d been over the last few years, nor did he ask why Kurapika never answered his calls. He didn’t ask about the dark places he’d explored or who he might’ve gotten involved with. He didn’t ask why the Kurta had shown up on his doorstep the night before, unexpectedly, with nothing but a generic greeting, a suitcase full of eyes, a small bag, and the clothes on his body. He didn’t ask why Kurapika was haunting his halls at three in the morning.
Instead, he simply offered care and warmth during the sliver of time they would spend cohabiting. Kurapika didn’t deserve it.
“It’s alright, Leorio. There’s no need to go to all the trouble. Truthfully, I can handle it.”
“But you shouldn’t have to, dammit. Let me help you.” Leorio replied, punctuating his words with a heavy sigh. For just a moment, his cool demeanor slipped, and Kurapika caught sight of an intensity underneath the surface that caught him off-guard. A hint of frustration contorted his tired features - gone so quickly he might’ve imagined it. “I might not be the person you trust to fight beside you - or the person you trust enough to talk to, even. But, please, let me do this one thing. Let me carry what I can.”
Kurapika swallowed and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Okay, good.” Leorio exhaled, dragging a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Just… just stay there, okay? I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Before heading to the kitchen, Leorio glanced back at him the way he might glance at a phantom, a quicksand apparition that would surely slip away at the first sign of an opening. The funny thing was, that wasn’t far off from the truth.
Leorio disappeared into the kitchen and Kurapika sighed, leaning back in the chair, eyelids beginning to flutter shut. It was then that a soft noise sounded near his feet. Kurapika leaned over and peered down at the source to find a small cat - fluffy cream colored fur and wide-open copper eyes.
“Oh, hello there, sweetie. I haven’t seen you before.” Kurapika murmured, reaching his fingers out to brush them through the overly-fluffy fur. The creature purred, delighting in the touch. After a moment, the cat leapt up on the sofa, sprawling confidently across his lap. It appeared every bit as trusting as its owner.
“Did the cat decide to finally come out?” Leorio asked from the other room, voice accompanied by a series of clanking noises, indicating that he was more than likely digging through dishes in his cabinet. “Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t come out earlier. Himari can be a bit of an attention-hogging furball when she feels like it.”
“Himari? That’s a pretty name.”
For some reason, touching the cat was soothing. The weight of her in his lap was a comforting anchor, keeping him relatively grounded in the moment. Her fur was pleasantly soft against his fingertips.
“Yeah, I couldn’t figure out what to name her at first. Found the poor thing wandering around outside - cold, wet, and half-starved to death. So, I brought her inside, of course! Took care of her, showered her with affection until she started to trust me. Then one day, she jumped up on my lap - little doe eyes and purring like she was the happiest thing on the planet. Practically lit up the whole room.”
Kurapika could hear the smile on Leorio’s face as he spoke. The Kurta craned his neck slightly to observe the man. His back was turned towards Kurapika as he poured steaming liquid into a mug.
“That’s when I realized her name - Himari. It’s written with the Kanji for sunshine and hollyhock flowers.”
“It certainly suits her.” Kurapika replied, tracing his fingers gently across her back.
Leorio chuckled.
“It does now, but you should’ve seen her before! The little spitfire hissed anytime I got too close at the beginning, always stubbornly independent. Now look at her. Shows how much good a little care and affection can do.”
Kurapika chose to ignore the pointed lesson that Leorio - not so subtly - snuck into his story. He also chose to ignore that Leorio was, almost certainly, comparing him to a cat. Instead, the blond looked down at Himari and met her bright copper eyes. At the moment, she was melting over his lap like warm butter, purring, pawing at him whenever he stopped petting her. Not one care in the world - her trusting hunt for affection was relentless.
“Here, you go. Careful, it’s hot.” Leorio said, after he padded out to the living room and presented a steaming mug to him.
“Thank you.” Kurapika replied curtly, taking it from him. An involuntary shiver ran through him at the feel of the warmth, making him realize just how cold he was. He proceeded to cradle the cup with pallid, icy fingertips. The sweet smell drifting upwards with the plumes of steam caused his mouth to water.
When was the last time he’d consumed anything? He couldn’t quite remember. Whenever, or whatever it was, it certainly wouldn’t have been as nice.
Kurapika was pulled out of his thoughts when Leorio stretched a blanket over his shoulders, gently tucking it around him like one might a delicate child - not a murderer, or a ghost, or a half-dead creature wearing the disguise of a living body.
“You were shivering.”
“Oh.”
The blond found himself unsure of what he should say in response to the barrage of care. Frankly, it was strange and disconcerting to him. So instead of speaking, he took a tentative sip, closing his eyes in pleasure. The drink tasted every bit as good as it smelled. All the while, Leorio stood back awkwardly against the wall, almost as if he were scared to get too close.
“You can take a seat, Leorio. I won’t bite.”
“Oh, it’s not that…” Leorio said, scuffing his feet against the carpet, watching him carefully. “I just didn’t want to startle you. You still look a little out of it, honestly.”
“Not to burst your bubble, but I’ve experienced things far more startling than sitting next to you.” Kurapika poked with a tired half-smile. Leorio rolled his eyes and sank down on the sofa, warmth permeating from him in waves. He reached down to scratch the impatient cat behind her ears, before she started pawing at Kurapika.
“So, do you want to talk about your dream?” Leorio asked, gently prodding against the barrier Kurapika had firmly constructed between them.
“I… I don’t know.” Kurapika admitted.
“Okay, then… How’s this? I’ll sit here with you for right now. If you feel like telling me, I’ll listen. If not, then, I’ll still be here.”
Kurapika nodded and closed his eyes.
Leorio’s offer itself was strangely alluring. Mutual companionship without the pressure to create verbal bridges. Even more strange was that, as the moments dragged on in silence, he was finding within himself the burgeoning urge to speak.
That could’ve been due to one of numerous factors. It could’ve been Himari, curled up on his lap, or the soft blanket that was wrapped around him. Maybe it was the smell of the sweet milk and the heat of the mug in his hand. Perhaps it was the selfish allure of warmth and vulnerability in the middle of the night, paired with loneliness, a bone-deep ache for connection, and a hint of sleep deprivation. Even more likely, it was a mixture of all of those things. Regardless, the faux sense of security he’d stumbled upon in the haven that was Leorio’s living room was a catalyst, inspiring him to let words tumble recklessly out of his mouth.
“I dreamt that I was lost at sea.” Kurapika whispered, fracturing the silence of the room. “All I saw, no matter where I looked, was the absence of life.”
“That sounds… lonely.” Leorio didn’t miss a beat.
“It was. I just sat in the boat, waiting, existing in purgatory. I wasn’t afraid, because I knew that nothing mattered anymore.” Kurapika spoke, hearing his own words as if they came from outside of himself. He shivered. Leorio placed a hand gingerly on his arm.
“In the end, I moved too abruptly and fell into the water. I confess, when I was sitting in the boat, I wouldn’t have imagined fighting for my life if I fell in. But for some reason, I did. Even though there was nobody left to live for.”
“I’m glad you fought.” Leorio said emphatically.
Kurapika sighed, watching the shadowy figures that were locked perpetually in his peripheral vision. He dug his toes into the carpet and ran his fingers absentmindedly through Himari’s fur.
“I have a multitude of ghosts at my back, Leorio. I’m the only one left that carries their memory.” Kurapika whispered, “I don’t know what I’m more afraid of: the thought that I’ll lose them over time or that I’ll never be rid of them. Truthfully, I’m not sure how to live with either.”
I admit, I’m not quite ready to let go yet.
“Kurapika, listen to me. What you went through back then… It was horrifying.” Leorio slid off the couch and knelt on the ground in front of him. Stubbornly empathetic, the man looked up at him and firmly met his eyes. “I know that I can’t come close to imagining just how much it hurt - or even how much it still hurts now. Hell, I don’t even know what you’ve been through since then. But I do know what it’s like to lose someone important to me. I know what it’s like to be the only person left alive who remembers the… the stupid little things.”
“Your friend-“ Kurapika started, flashes of their conversation in the tunnel at the Hunter’s Exam rushed into his mind.
“I lost Pietro, yes. But I’ll be damned if I lose you too. So, even though I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, I am here. I’m willing to listen.”
Everything about Leorio was so… alive… so reckless and present and grounded. He wasn’t adrift in the middle of the sea with no way to get out. No. He was the anchor, the lighthouse, the phone call that always persisted - long after anyone else would have given up.
The kindness made Kurapika’s heart crumble, just a little.
“Everyone who’s ever loved me is dead.” The Kurta said simply. “They died - for no reason other than the self-interest of avaricious men.”
“I’m not dead.” Leorio replied firmly. “Neither is Gon, or Killua, or any of the others. We’re here, Kurapika.”
“But…” He started in protest.
“Dammit, can you stop fighting and just accept that we care about you? You matter to people. You matter to me.”
“I’m… I’m not a good person anymore, Leorio. Considering the things I’ve done these past few years, I’ve lost that privilege. I don’t want to drag you into my mess. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t care for me.”
“Stop.” Leorio said. “I’m afraid you don’t get to decide. I’m invested, like it or not! And I know you’re not a bad person, no matter what you’ve done. I can see through you - the same way you saw through me at the Hunter’s Exam all those years ago.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Leorio sighed heavily, readjusting his glasses and ruffling a hand through his messy hair. The quick succession of emotions flashing across his face hinted that he was formulating, reconstructing, and discarding dozens of counter-arguments.
“You’ve gotten all of the Scarlet Eyes back, right?” Leorio settled on, finally. “That’s why you came back.”
“… Yes, that’s correct.” Kurapika replied after trying, and failing, to find a good reason to hide the truth from him. After finding all of the eyes, he’d felt overwhelmingly directionless. It hadn’t taken long until he’d found himself stumbling back towards the first familiar face that flooded into his mind.
“Okay, then you’ve completed your mission. So, I think you should stay here with me.”
Kurapika blinked, perplexed. Every train of thought that had been looping and intersecting in his mind came to a grinding halt. At first, he was certain that the man must’ve been joking. But Leorio’s eyes were serious and solemn. They carried no glint that indicated teasing.
“What?”
“Stay with me, Pika.” Leorio whispered, pleading. The genuine emotion and concern threaded through his tone shook Kurapika to his core and hearing the nickname that he’d been given in childhood cracked him open.
“But, why?” He asked, voice breaking apart. “I never called you back… I was never there…. I’m… I’m rotten. There’s nothing inside me that hasn’t festered.”
“You think I’d want to become a doctor if I wasn’t okay dealing with the occasional festering wound?” Leorio responded softly. “You might think you’re a lost cause, but you’re not. In fact, you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve met. I’d be honored if you’d stick around and let me prove you wrong. Just... give me a chance to help fight your demons with you.”
“You can't,” Kurapika whispered. “You can’t fight an enemy that exists in my head.”
“I can damn well try.”
The burgeoning lump in his throat grew and his eyes burned and became blurry. How could one person be so relentlessly kind? So stubbornly persistent? How could Leorio look at him, broken as he was, lost as he was, and see a path forward? How was he able to care so much?
“Besides…” Leorio said, clambering back up onto the couch. “Himari needs a friend - someone who’ll spoil her when I’m not able to. She’ll definitely appreciate having someone around who can relate to what she’s been through.”
“Subtlety is not your forte, Leorio.” Kurapika choked out a short, breathless laugh - one which could’ve been mistaken for a sob. He quickly wiped the moisture from the edge of his eyes as he set the empty mug on the edge of the table.
“Who said I was trying to be subtle?” Leorio poked. “Anyways… what do you say?”
To say ‘No’ would be easy. It would be the obvious choice for a person who’d spent years cultivating barriers and burning bridges. It would be easy, in the way that to die would be easy - easier than a life spent struggling against the battering current. To let himself stay lost would be easy. To surrender himself to the current would be easy. But, to decide to stay… That would be anything but easy.
Nevertheless, Leorio’s firm eyes and overconfident determination told him, in no uncertain terms, that he believed the gamble would pay off. Whether or not that would turn out to be true, would remain to be seen. Still, no one had looked at him or spoken to him that compassionately since before he’d lost everything.
Perhaps it was foolish, but that made him want to try. However briefly.
“I… Okay.”
Leorio froze for a moment, processing Kurapika’s response in slow motion. Consequently, a grin stretched across Leorio’s face, bright enough to illuminate the whole room.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be staying, though.” Kurapika clarified, quickly working to temper any unrealistic hopes.
“But you will stay?”
“I will. For the time being.”
Before Kurapika could process what was happening, he’d been scooped up into a warm, all-enveloping hug. Blinking and disoriented, the first thing that he processed was the feel of bony arms around him. Then, his mind jumped to how long it’d been since a person had touched him kindly in any capacity before that night (probably at least a year, if not several). It was strangely nice.
A warmth kindled in the pit of his stomach. Kurapika noted it, feeling strange and detached, as if it didn't belong to him. It was like someone else was experiencing the sensation, and he got to witness it vicariously. Maybe that was true, in a fashion. Leorio was bright and warm, a roaring campfire in the middle of the night - Kurapika was gleaning the feeling from him as he orbited in the man’s vicinity.
Leorio leaned back and broke the contact, leaving Kurapika a bit dizzy. Relief was painted across Leorio’s features, as was exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes hinted at more than a little lost sleep.
“Did you see that Himari? We got him.” Leorio whispered conspiratorially. She stared at him, unimpressed, until he scratched her behind the ears with a finger.
“You’re ridiculous.” Kurapika said, punctuating his words with an eye roll. He gently transitioned Himari into Leorio’s lap, before standing up and brushing the fur off of his pajamas. “Well, now that that’s decided, I’m going to go back to bed.”
“Hey, you should take her with you.” Leorio said. The man stood up, cradling the cat in his arms. “I can tell that she’s pretty attached already - and she likes to cuddle at night.”
The blond blinked, eyes flickering between the cat and her owner. Taking the lack of protest as confirmation, Leorio leaned forward and plopped her into his arms. Kurapika could feel her heartbeat against his skin, as well as the steady rise and fall of her body as she breathed. Looking down at her, warm and sleepy, he felt something ache inside him. He cradled the cat closer before turning to walk down the hallway.
“Hey, Pika,” Leorio called after him. Kurapika turned back. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” His words might’ve sounded light and casual, but the expression on his face made it clear that he perfectly understood their weight as he wielded them.
Kurapika inclined his head in a nod, promising.
“I’ll be making pancakes and coffee, so you better bring your appetite.” Leorio said with a soft smile.
“Leorio… Thank you.” Kurapika whispered, a lump wedged firmly in his throat. He turned and pushed his way back into the room.
There was a chance that Kurapika had been broken irreparably - that was a possibility that he’d strongly considered. Underneath the surface, he could wind up being just a pile of busted-up pieces of machinery that no mechanic could get working again. Perhaps his life was a tapestry woven so predominately with sin that other colors were unable to shine through. Maybe the path forward was obscured behind a pitch-black curtain. Maybe the past was too.
Even so, for the first time in months… in years, he realized that he didn’t dread the thought of the morning pulling him dutifully back to the world of the living. There was a glimmer of light, sparkling in stubborn defiance of the darkness of the abyss. There was another person, compassionately offering to sit with him in the boat as the waves churned below.
There was an old friend, persistently reminding him that underneath all of the mess, life still existed within him. For the moment, that was enough.
I’m not ready to let go yet.