Chapter Text
1:
The man who came to pick Leorio up looked like a cross between a 1970s action hero and an 1800s war general. He was a big buff guy with a ridiculously low-cut sleeveless vest and massive sideburns. As ridiculous as his general aesthetic was, Leorio was certain the man could break him in half like a toothpick if he tried to make a break for it.
Not that he would. There was no upside to this situation.
They rounded a corner, where a classic black SUV was parked. The guy nodded for Leorio to get into the back, and he complied.
It took him a moment to realize that there was another Nostrade employee in the car. Sideburns guy had started up the car and began to back out of the parking spot before Leorio realized that someone sat next to him.
A beam of light from a nearby streetlight reflected off blond hair, slightly illuminating an androgynous young man in a plain black suit and tie.
"Oh." Leorio said. "Hi. I didn't see you there before."
The other guard responded by calmly loading a pistol and pointing it at him.
Instinctively, Leorio raised his hands, body tensing up. "Please! Don't shoot!"
"I won't. This is only a precaution." The city lights reflected off the tinted window. "You are the fiancée of the heir, after all."
"Then why are you pointing a gun at me?" Leorio's voice came out squeaky. He was unused to this mafia business. Hell, he'd never even seen a real gun outside of a display case before, much less had one pointed at him.
"In case you were treasonous and aimed to get rid of assets of the Nostrade family." The young man said easily, as though it were obvious.
"Lay off, Kurapika." Sideburns said from the front seat. "Kid didn't even grow up in the mob. He's no threat."
The gun wielding one--Kurapika-- frowned deeply. "You need to keep your mouth shut."
"And you need to loosen up." Sideburns shot back. "Make sure the guy's trustworthy and hand him over. You won't find an easier job, kid!"
Kurapika scowled but said nothing.
"If it makes you feel better," Leorio murmured awkwardly. "I'm not really a fighter, so even if I did decide to act up, you'd probably kick my ass."
Kurapika snorted. "Thank you for your input...Leorio Rottfelli?"
"Leorio Paradinaito, if you will." Leorio said lightly.
"Legally, you are registered as the youngest son of the Rottfelli clan." Kurapika said blandly.
"Well, Paradinaito is my mom's name and I like that better."
"That works as well. I just need to be able to identify you legally."
The rest of the car ride was spent in tense silence. The city seemed to go on forever in the darkness, although they were frequently stopped in traffic. Leorio tried to watch the sky idly, but he could feel Kurapika's eyes trained on him in the darkness.
At last, they pulled up next to a glassy skyscraper.
"We'll be staying here for the next few months." Kurapika's voice came from behind him. "You'll need to get accustomed to our way of life, and we'll ensure that you are trustworthy."
"Okay." Leorio felt very, very small in that moment. I still go to York New University, he reminded himself. Someday he would be a doctor, and none of this would matter. Miss Nostrade could lead her own mafia, and her husband could go off and practice medicine. Her husband...
Now that Leorio didn't have a gun pointed at him, he remembered the other issue.
"Kurapika?"
"Yes?" The bodyguard turned towards him, hair whipping in the autumn wind.
"I need to give you something." He should solve this problem now. "In my bag, there is what looks like a wine bottle. Please take it away. Rottfelli...my father...gave it to me to 'aid my wedding night.' Obviously, I'd never use it against any woman, let alone Miss Nostrade."
"Thank you for your honesty." Kurapika's expression didn't change. "We would have found it anyways though."
Shit? Should I have given it over earlier? Does he think I'm a pervert?
"We should go inside. It's cold out here." The other man's voice interrupted Leorio's train of thought. At least everything he could control was settled now. The "six-hour love potion" would be disposed of in no time. The three took the elevator up to what felt like the very top floor of the skyscraper. Leorio prevented himself from looking down. He knew if he did that, he'd be on the verge of throwing up. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself go weightless in the soaring space.
The three exited into a dark hallway, cramped and claustrophobic. He couldn't see the others, but he could hear the faint swishing of their clothes and infer their forward momentum. Finally, a door clicked open, and Kurapika let them into the apartment.
"Basho!" Kurapika's voice echoed from around the corner. "Please remove that wine bottle from Leorio's bag."
"Don't you order me around, kid!" Basho yelled.
The light flicked on, and Leorio could perceive a small, if surprisingly luxurious modern style apartment. There was a combined kitchen and living room space with a large television and a couch.
Kurapika sat down on the couch, gently smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit. Leorio followed suit, only to get a strange glance from the other.
"You can go to bed now." Kurapika said. "The bedroom should be made up to your convenience."
"You mean you're not going to bed yet?"
Kurapika brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. "Basho and I still have to search your bags. In addition, I have another shift tonight. I do have a bedroom here though, which I should return to by two or three am."
"Nostrade doesn't let you sleep then, huh?" Leorio said. He supposed the mafia life was probably pretty demanding and unglamourous unless you were da capo.
"Attending Mr. Nostrade at all hours is part of my job." Kurapika's expression almost never changed. "By the way, Basho will be here until I return, just in case you need anything."
The words were innocuous, courteous even, but Leorio could sense an undertone of ice. Even if there was a mini fridge and a widescreen tv, he was still a prisoner until they decided he could be trusted.
No. Not they. He.
Neon Nostrade, Mr. Nostrade, even Basho. None of them saw Leorio as more than a pawn, much less a threat. His true jailer was Kurapika.
2:
Leorio awoke the next morning in the strange bed. For a moment, he was disoriented, the same sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains.
Then, he remembered. He was still bitter, certainly, but he'd accepted the circumstances. Still, he didn't have to like them and that uptight Kurapika guy freaked him the hell out.
He padded out into the kitchen, cracking his joints to loosen them.
"I wouldn't walk around in my underwear if I had a roommate."
"JESUS FU--" He practically jumped. Sitting on the couch was Kurapika, already suited up for a day of mafia business, a cup of coffee steaming on a coaster.
"Sorry man. Didn't think you'd be back so soon."
Kurapika cocked his head. "I told you I would be back by the morning."
Instead of responding, Leorio stalked back to his room to change. If life was fair, he'd be able to stay in his boxers and "I ♡York New" tee shirt until one pm. Instead, he had an unfortunate new roommate.
As soon as he reemerged from the room, he was greeted by Kurapika's flat voice (now coming from the kitchen island.) "We have something to do tonight." Kurapika blew his coffee to cool it off, soft as a feather.
"And before that, I need your measurements. It seems that you do not own any proper suits for formal networking. Nostrade's tailor would be happy to provide some though."
"I don't know my measurements." It was too early for this, God.
Kurapika's eyes flicked over Leorio, as though making a decision. "It will be less accurate to take them yourself. Still, I think you'll have to."
"That's fine, I don't want you to feel me up anyways." Leorio muttered sulkily.
Kurapika's eyebrows raised, but he didn't say a word.
Leorio sat down next to the bodyguard and poured some coffee into a mug. "So, what are we doing tonight?"
"Networking." Kurapika said, resting his face on his hand with a pensive expression. "Nostrade wants you equipped to deal with clients."
"Shouldn't Neon teach me that?" Leorio took a sip of the coffee and almost spat it out. Even as a medical student, he'd never tasted anything so dark. You might as well take caffeine pills for that kind of pick-me-up. Or do cocaine.
"You are not allowed to meet the young lady until we have fully assessed you." Kurapika said quietly. "I cannot tell your intentions just by seeing you."
"Okay." Leorio let out a long sigh. "I'll tell you the whole spiel if it makes you trust me more. I'm old man Rottfelli's bastard. He didn't need me since he had two actual sons. But they're both married, so they can't form alliances with his former rivals. So, he struck a deal with me. I'd marry Miss Nostrade and he'd pay my way through medical school. I agreed since there was no other way I'd find the money for it, and here I am." He sat back in his chair and paused. "What about you? Why are you working as one of Nostrade's hired goons?"
"Why would I tell you?" Kurapika's delicate features darkened.
"Chill, man!" Leorio said quickly. "Just trying to lighten the mood since we're going to be roommates for who knows how long, eh?"
Kurapika didn't say anything for a long pause. He took a sip of coffee. "Don't tell people any more than you have to. Tonight, we must attend Mr. Nostrade's business dinner. He wants to present you to his colleagues. We have a lot of work to do until then. There should be a tape measure in the right kitchen drawer. Take your measurements, and I'll ensure that something suitable is procured. Then, come back and we'll go over plans." There was a commanding, almost cinematic huskiness in Kurapika's voice.
"Don't you order me around!" Leorio found himself doing as he was told anyways.
Once he returned, he found Kurapika hunched over the kitchen island with a piece of paper and a pen.
"What's that?"
"The plan." Leorio got a good look at the page. It was mostly filled with boxes and cramped, slightly stilted handwriting, as though English weren't Kurapika's first language. "You need to be deemed trustworthy and made before auction season."
"Made?" The phrase seemed unfamiliar in context. Also, Leorio had no idea what auction season was.
Kurapika tapped his fingers impatiently. "Inducted into Nostrade's ranks. I'm trusted, but I'm an outside hire. I'll never be officially inducted. I have other duties aside from being your handler, and they increase drastically during autumn, when auctions are held in central York New. Therefore, I need you inducted in five months. To do that, you need to be deemed trustworthy and taught the ropes in that time."
"Okay." Leorio said slowly. That made sense. "When do I get to meet Miss Nostrade?"
Kurapika's finger tapping increased in speed. "You'll get a glimpse of her in two weeks. But your official presentation won't occur until you are inducted."
Leorio leaned back in his chair. "Is she cute?"
The other's expression became confused. "What do you mean? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
Leorio rolled his eyes. "Sure. But some people are just good-looking, right? Compared to them, how is she?"
"I'm not quite sure. She is conventionally attractive, I suppose. But 'good-looking' is extremely subjective." He became almost pensive.
"Don't you lecture." Leorio muttered irritably. "You only say that because you're one of those good-looking people."
Kurapika rolled his eyes. "Do you know how shallow you are?"
"Jeez, wondering if the person you're being forced to marry is at least hot is hardly shallow! It's like a consolation prize." Leorio realized his voice was louder than he'd originally intended. He lowered it. "Anyways, what are we doing today?"
"Your official presentation to Nostrade's customers. I would have set it back at least a month, but the circumstances were not...ideal." Kurapika sighed. "Certain city officials need proof that they aren't going to offend Rottfelli by taking bribes from Nostrade."
The calm in the other's voice rubbed Leorio the wrong way, though he realized the hypocrisy in thinking this way. Kurapika just accepted the harmful outcomes of the mafia instead of turning a blind eye.
After this stalemate, Kurapika called someone to threaten them to find suitable clothes for Leorio in six hours before rushing off to whatever his next mission for Nostrade was. A nice woman named Melody came to take his place.
She was portly and short with gray hair, although she didn't have wrinkles, and her calming voice was that of a young woman. While neither of the other two mafiosos Leorio had met quite fit the bill, it was most difficult for him to imagine her as one of Nostrade's henchmen. Despite Kurapika's youth and androgynous good looks, he did have a movie mafioso's icy demeanor and penchant for tailored black suits. Even Basho's unusual fashion sense couldn't distract from his distinct meat-headedness, but Melody was neither athletic nor coldhearted.
"So, you are Neon's new fiancée." She and Leorio sat on the couch, mindlessly watching some reality show.
"I guess so. I've never met her though." Leorio paused thoughtfully. "I've only met Kurapika and Basho so far."
"Ah, Kurapika." Melody laughed. "He was upset that he had to be your handler. I apologize for his rudeness. He's a good boy, if you can get close enough to him to see it."
"He's not rude," Leorio shifted on the couch. "He's just kind of cold and unfriendly."
Melody sighed in an almost motherly way. "He didn't use to be that way, I swear."
On the television, one plasticky bottle-blond lady threw a wine glass at another. Dramatic music played, and the camera jerkily zoomed in on the victim, who, fortunately, did not seem to have been injured.
"Why are we watching this?" Leorio asked aloud.
"I'm not sure. You turned it on." Melody supplied helpfully.
At around three o'clock, Melody left, and ten minutes later, Kurapika returned.
From his study spot at the kitchen table, Leorio heard the door creak gently open.
"Hi there," He muttered without turning around.
"Hi." Kurapika's voice sounded small, strained. Leorio turned around.
Kurapika's pants were sticky with blood, a slash cut across his right leg. His shirt seemed soaked with sweat, and his soft hair hung in damp clumps. Even his hands seemed to have minor lacerations on them.
"Holy shit." Leorio ran over to the bodyguard, who had sunk down to the ground. "Holy shit--let me call 911."
"Don't." Kurapika looked up at him, dark eyes glowing from inside out. "Surely, as a medical student, you know that wounds to the upper thighs bleed more than other places? It looks worse than it is. Please get me some gauze and antiseptic. It should be in the bathroom, under the sink."
"No way in hell!" Leorio practically yelled. "You think I'm not going to call an ambulance over this? Did you get shot?"
"No. I got stabbed." Kurapika said calmly. "And you aren't calling an ambulance. That's more dangerous for me, you idiot. Get me the supplies, now."
Leorio once again found himself doing as he was told, although it was mostly to prevent Kurapika from losing any more blood. His hands felt almost shaky. As a medical student, he couldn't afford to flinch, but there was a big difference between a kid cutting his leg on a rock and someone being stabbed in a fight.
"Thank you." Kurapika began to weakly pull his own pants leg up, hands shaky.
"No way." Leorio picked the bleeding man up, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him to the bathroom. Ignoring Kurapika's protests, he found himself lecturing. "Haven't you ever heard of medical safety and wound contamination? You can't put bandages on on a dirty floor. Take your pants off."
"WHAT!?"
"Take your pants off so I can wash your fucking wound." Leorio snapped. "You don't have to take your underwear off or anything. Do you want an infection?"
"Fine." Kurapika complied, and Leorio turned the tub faucet on to a lukewarm temperature. Kurapika was right, to a certain extent. The upper thighs, particularly of slender people, bled more copiously than other areas due to the larger blood vessels. However, the actual slash hadn't been too deep and hadn't hit bone. Even better, it wasn't bleeding too much anymore, so he wouldn't have to apply pressure.
He dried the area (rip to that nice white hand towel), and applied alcohol to the area.
"That burns." Kurapika's voice sounded a little bit put off. For the first time since picking him up, Leorio glanced at Kurapika's face. Sitting in the tub, hair in his eyes, he didn't look nearly as threatening as before, though he could probably still decapitate Leorio if he wanted to.
"Good." Leorio replied briskly. "Apply the alcohol to the cuts on your hands too while I bandage your leg."
Leorio reached for the gauze and began to wrap it around Kurapika's leg. He could practically feel those dark eyes burning into him with rage. It made sense that Kurapika wasn't quite the touchy feely type, but to be put off while someone was literally bandaging your wounds was insane.
"I could have done this myself. I've had wounds like this before."
"Isn't it more convenient to have someone else do it though?" Leorio asked.
"I don't like being touched."
"I wouldn't be touching you, you idiot, if you hadn't been literally stabbed!" Leorio finished wrapping the other's leg and sealed it with medical tape. "All better. I promise you; you'll never have to take your pants off around me ever again." He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Just like, lay low for a couple days, okay? To let it heal?"
"But we have to go to your presentation tonight." Kurapika was already shakily getting out of the bathtub. "Take a shower and change. I'll do the same."
"No way! No way!" There was no way anyone could be this stubborn and self-sacrificing.
"Yes." Kurapika snarled. "Why do you care what I do?"
"Because people care about other people! At least most people do." Leorio snapped.
The temperature felt as though it had gone down by about ten degrees. Neither spoke.
"Shower." Kurapika hissed and exited the bathroom. "And make it quick, since I need to shower too."
As Leorio stood under the showerhead (or rather, next to it, due to his height), his turned over and over. There was still a little blood on the tan and white tiles, congealed but not dried. He felt viscerally sick.
Kurapika was somewhere nearby, changing; his suit jacket and torn pants lay abandoned on the ground, slick with blood and sweat.
The reality was sinking in now, as the water swirled down the drain. Kurapika's sunken eyes, gritted teeth, and bandaged thighs had burned themselves into Leorio's mind.
How much danger was he in? For the rest of his life, would he have to worry about someone just deciding to kill him or someone he loved out of nowhere? And what if he deserved it? Some would say that turning a blind eye was just as bad as doing it yourself.
"Are you almost done?" Kurapika's voice, flat and unbothered, echoed from behind the door.
"Yeah!" Leorio hastily washed his body off, but he still felt ill.
He got out, grabbed a towel to cover himself and slammed the door open. Kurapika stood behind it, side-eying him quietly. Without a word, the other entered the bathroom and closed the door.
About ten minutes later, Kurapika emerged, dressed in yet another plain black suit and tie.
"You own anything that isn't a black suit?" Leorio teased.
"I do. I rarely have a chance to wear it though." Kurapika's eyes drifted to the clock on the living room wall. "Your suit is here. I put it in your room. Go change."
3:
Kurapika was a bad driver. Maybe cause he was just a kid, but the guy had no self-control when it came to road rage and dealing with traffic.
After what felt like hours of near misses with other cars, they reached an elegant hotel. Leorio had never seen anything so ritzy; it looked like he expected the Chateau Marmont to look. Kind of old-Hollywood, with sun-bleached ionic columns and classic architecture, very out of place here in York New.
On the sidewalk, Saturday night clubbers laughed loudly at nothing. The women wore short dresses and impractically high heels. The men followed behind, catcalling drunkenly. Leorio watched Kurapika's expression in the rear-view mirror. He definitely wasn't eying up the women (Leorio didn't think Kurapika swung that way). Disdain then?
"Here." Kurapika parked out front. A valet stepped out to greet them. Kurapika handed him the keys to the car.
"Is that all sir?" The valet kept his eyes trained on the ground.
"Yes. Thank you."
Leorio followed Kurapika closely. His new suit was softer than anything he'd ever worn. And it probably cost as much as his whole wardrobe combined. Kurapika didn't wear fancy suits, despite being Nostrade's right hand man. His clothes were identical; a funeral's worth of black suits and ties, accented only with jewelry.
The lobby of the hotel was even more luxurious than he could have imagined. There was a massive crystal chandelier, and the floors were marble so shiny he could see his own reflection.
Before he could drink it all in, however, Kurapika was dragging him by the sleeve towards an elevator.
The inside was plush with red velvet and baroque gold detailing. A large mirror adorned the wall. Even though Kurapika's back was turned to him, he could see the other man's expression in the reflection.
"How are ya feeling about this?" Leorio ventured.
Kurapika closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. "There is a seventy-five percent chance this will not end badly."
"So, there's a 1 in 4 chance we'll both die?" Leorio said dryly.
"Of course not." Kurapika's eyes moved in the mirror, focusing on him. "I'll protect you, no matter what." The phrasing was so intense, yet the tone of voice so nonchalant.
For a moment, Leorio was struck dumb.
Kurapika's eyes narrowed. "Don't look like that. Protecting you is my job. And I have this. So, you don't need to worry." He held up his right hand in the mirror. Silver chains encircled his wrist and hand.
"Chains?" Leorio asked, confused.
"Nen chains." Kurapika said, as though that clarified anything. Before they could talk any more however, the elevator doors opened.
Leorio suddenly felt very disoriented; the lights were too bright, the air too stuffy. His suit was too tight, and he was painfully aware of everything around him. In an almost out-of-body way, he followed Kurapika to the ornate conference room door.
Without a single glance back, Kurapika knocked on the door, the chains on his hand making a clanging noise against the oak of the door.
After a moment, another man, presumably a bodyguard based on his sunglasses and casual suit, opened the door wordlessly. Inside, many men and one woman, all in their forties or fifties, sat around a conference table. The infamous Mr. Nostrade, a somber black-haired man with a mustache, sat inconspicuously to the right-hand side, not at the head of the table as would have been expected. Other bodyguards waited by the edges of the room, poised like predators.
"It's Nostrade's guard dog," one of the "investors" hissed. Leorio felt himself tense up. He glanced at Kurapika, but the other man's face revealed nothing.
"Welcome, young Mr. Rottfelli," Nostrade stood up and paced over to Leorio, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "May I present to you my future son-in-law, Leorio Rottfelli?"
The investors glanced at each other. Finally, a petite blonde bodyguard said. "He's telling the truth." She paused. "Or at least he believes he is. Please introduce yourself, Mr. Rottfelli."
"Hi." Leorio said awkwardly. He could feel Nostrade's presence behind him. "My name is Leorio Rottfelli," (It probably wasn't the best time to get choicy about last names), "and my father is Leon Rottfelli. I am the fiancée of Mr. Nostrade's daughter, Miss Neon."
Another pause. The bodyguard who'd put him on the spot smiled. "He is telling the truth. I'm certain of it."
The investors seemed to deflate, relieved.
Why do they put so much stock in her? It's almost like she has magic powers.
"May we sit down?" Kurapika asked Nostrade quietly.
"Certainly," Nostrade said, and gestured to an open chair. Leorio took it, but Kurapika lingered behind him, as with the other bodyguards.
"Now that we have verified the matter," Nostrade said politely, "I would like everyone to take a brief interlude before we finish signing the documents. There are refreshments downstairs for anyone who would like them." He smiled, but Leorio could infer that the "refreshments" probably included an open bar to prime the "investors" for some unorthodox changes to the documents. "In the meantime, would you like to come with me for a walk, Leorio?"
He didn't think that this was something he could say no to, so he followed Nostrade. Kurapika made as if to follow them, but the mafia boss lightly shooed him off.
Leorio followed Nostrade downstairs and outside into a back garden. In the night, the meticulously groomed topiaries loomed strangely in the darkness. There were a few strings of fairy lights hung up, but not nearly enough to completely illuminate the place. Stone cupid statues placed here and there almost made Leorio laugh in spite of himself. If he was going to get shot tonight, it sure as hell wasn't with the arrows of the god of love.
"So, I assume you have questions?" Nostrade asked. His voice was oddly gentle, not assertive at all.
Leorio stuck his hands in his pockets. "I guess, why me?"
"The Rottfelli family has always been my greatest competition. What could be better than to merge the two in the future?" Nostrade suggested. "Besides, you must be within a few years of my daughter's age. She's hardly had any age-appropriate companions, aside from Kurapika, and as a bodyguard he hardly counts."
"Why Kurapika?" The two rounded a corner, passing a tall spiral topiary.
"He's been with me for a long time. It must be nearly four years now. Hardly anyone lasts that long in this kind of business. And he's incredibly loyal. He may be abrasive, but he is a good handler, for my most protected clients." Nostrade said. He checked his watch. "I believe we only have about ten minutes more before I must attend to my guests. Is there anything else important to you?"
"When do I get to meet Miss Nostrade?" Leorio asked frantically. He hadn't known time was so scarce. "Since she'll be my wife, I'd like to meet her before the wedding."
Nostrade smiled. "When Kurapika deems you trustworthy, of course."
The two strode back through the garden towards the hotel lobby. Despite Nostrade's calm demenor, Leorio felt unsettled. He could almost feel eyes on the back of his neck.
"Good night, Leorio." Nostrade said quietly, when they reached the side door that led into the lobby. Inside, Leorio could see the investors snacking and sipping wine by the hotel bar. "I'll call Kurapika to bring the car around to the main doors."
Leorio nodded curtly. He didn't want to move through the lobby if he didn't have to. There were too many investors with unknown intentions, too many bodyguards with bulges in their jackets. Kurapika had said they were supporters of the Rottfelli mafia, but there was a non-zero chance that some of them were not supporters.
Leorio cut back through the topiary garden, the hedges looming even darker without Nostrade here. The sense that someone was behind him grew even stronger. His footsteps quickened. The five-minute walk back to the front of the hotel had never felt longer.
Suddenly, Leorio caught sight of a glimmer in a bush. The sensation lasted only a moment, before, in a blur of motion, he was thrown into the hedge by an unknown assailant. Frantically, Leorio hit them as hard as he could, and they let out a gasping cough; he'd caught them in the neck.
A quiet swear in another language escaped the attacker.
That voice!
"Kurapika? But why--" The assailant--Kurapika--clamped a hand over his mouth. The bodyguard's eyes were deadly serious, shining in the night, a warning.
Finally, he could hear soft footsteps that ruffled the hedge.
"Where did he go? I didn't see anything." A male voice muttered, not too far away.
"I might've heard something, but he's clearly using zetsu." Another male voice, even closer than the first one.
"Well then, he'll be even more vulnerable." The first voice replied. "Bomb the shit out of this place?"
Kurapika's eyes widened. He glanced left and right, as if steadying himself. He looked down at Leorio. "Stay back."
Kurapika launched himself from the hedge, a blur of motion. In a violation of physics, the chains Kurapika had been wearing seemed to expand, the longest strand growing to twenty feet in length. Of it's on volition, the chain cracked like a whip, the force of its impact sending the two men spiraling into topiaries.
"Stay the hell away!" Kurapika snarled it into the darkness, iron chain handing down from his dominant hand. "You're both enhancers, I know it. And neither of you stand a chance!"
Kurapika whipped around and grabbed Leorio's hand so hard the chains dug into his palm. The two ran through the topiary garden, cut by wayward branches as they did. For a moment, Leorio felt as though he were flying. He'd almost fucking died thirty seconds ago, and he had no idea what had just happened, but he was flying, flying through the garden in the dead of night, grasping Kurapika's bloodied hand for dear life.
When they finally reached the car, Leorio jumped onto the passenger's side, slamming the door closed hard enough that it reverberated into the night. The rest of the ride was a blur, the cityscape and pedestrians bleeding into a writhing fluorescent mass. Leorio's head ached like never before. In the wake of all this, he looked over at the driver. Kurapika was intensely focused on the road, dark eyes reflected in the driver's side mirror. His long hair whipped in the wind, almost gold in the artificial light. For a moment, Leorio forgot that Kurapika was a sarcastic asshole with no sense of humor. In the halos of neon signs advertising strip clubs and churches, he looked like an angel.
4:
The next morning, Sunday, Leorio awoke to find Kurapika already gone, cold coffee resting on the countertop. The image of the chains remained in his mind as if burned there. Was he going crazy? There was no way anyone could conceal chains that long or make them move like that. He felt sick.
Not to mention, he had a paper due on Monday, and in the wake of everything that had happened, he'd hardly started it. For now, Leorio decided to postpone his potential insanity and work on his homework.
Melody was there again, sitting on the couch. This time, the television displayed a live orchestral performance.
"Real Housewives of York New to Flight of the Bumblebee?" He teased. "That's quite a change."
She smiled sweetly. "I was under the impression that you were the one who wanted to watch Real Housewives, Leorio."
"Funny, I thought the same thing."
He got to work, and in the droning monotony of technical terms, the hours passed quickly.
Leorio finished at three o'clock and went to the fridge to make himself a sandwich as a snack. "Melody? Can I interest you in a sandwich? We've got ham, turkey, cheddar cheese but not the slices, like the bagged kind."
"No thank you."
"You know when Kurapika's going to be home to babysit again?" Leorio asked, assembling the sandwich on the kitchen island. "I have a few questions to ask."
Melody turned to face him on the couch. "I'm unsure when Kurapika will return. However, I could try to answer your questions."
Leorio took a big bite of his sandwich, wondering whether or not he should tell the other guard about the chains. Would she think he was insane? Well, there was no harm in it. "What's up with Kurapika's chains?"
Melody looked at him querulously then came to sit at the island with him. "They're his nen ability, of course. He's a conjurer, so the chains allow him a more versatile weapon than say, a sword or a gun." She paused for a long moment. "Oh dear. You don't know, do you?"
"No." Leorio muttered. "What's 'nen?'"
Melody sighed deeply. "He never even told you about nen? Dear god, that boy is infuriating. Nen is... energy, I suppose. The energy that keeps us all alive. Like our 'soul,' if you believe in that sort of thing."
"So, like some spiritual thing?"
"Not exactly." Melody took a notebook from her satchel and tore out a page. Then, she tossed it at the beige wall. Somehow, the page stuck in the wall like a throwing star. "Nen can manipulate existence. Let me tell you all about it."
Leorio's mind swirled with confusion after Melody left. He had proof of the existence of nen in front of his own eyes, yet it seemed so strange, so impossible. Maybe it was the explanation for Kurapika's almost oppressive aura. Melody had said that it was possible to sense the aura of a strong nen user. And Kurapika's aura ordered submission from everyone around him.
The aforementioned nen user returned long after Melody had left. Maybe that meant that Leorio was gaining more of his trust? He'd planned to stay up and give the secretive bastard a piece of his mind for concealing the existence of nen, but by twelve o' clock, he felt tired, and he had university the next day.
God, Leorio thought as he pulled his covers up over his head. These past three days have been exhausting. Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like?