Chapter Text
Kuroro and Kurapika were having something to drink in a high-class restaurant at the Cemetery Building.
Kurapika was sipping his hot lemon tea. He scowled and glared at his mortal enemy Kuroro who was savoring his red wine.
“Why call me out? What do you want? Don’t tell me you just want me to accompany you while you enjoy your drink, bastard,” Kurapika frowned.
Kuroro was holding his glass, swirling it in a small circle. “I admire all forms of art. This red wine really has a good texture, its aroma remains in the mouth after it is swallowed. You see, its color is as red as fresh blood from a wound.” Kuroro turned his gaze to Kurapika, “But it is nothing when compared to your scarlet eyes, yours is the most beautiful red in the wor-“
“What do you want?!” Kurapika interrupted, as he was getting annoyed.
“Kurapika, you are always so restless when I am around.” Kuroro said with a mysterious smile. There was an eerie glint in his eyes. “I have something for you.”
Kuroro took out a sheet of plain paper and an ink pen from his pocket. He put the stuff in the center of the table. Kurapika stared at it for a while before glaring back at Kuroro.
“What are you playing at? I have no time to play this dumb game with you.” Kurapika stood up curtly, repressing the urge to throw his lemon tea cup right at Kuroro’s face.
“Hold on, Kurapika. Just write your full name, date of birth, and blood type on the paper.”
“What are you playing at?!” Kurapika glared down at Kuroro.
“You’ll know when you do it.” Kuroro just kept his mysterious smile on and stared straight into Kurapika’s eyes.
“You can check my personal profile on the Hunter Association website. Though you don’t have a Hunter License to access it, it is not a difficult task for you to get in by whatever illegal means,” Kurapika snorted.
“Yes, it’s the truth I can easily get your profile. But I prefer you to write it personally,” Kuroro replied. His gaze on Kurapika intensified. “Because it is something for you, only you.”
Kurapika averted his eyes from Kuroro’s gaze. It was too intense for him to hold. With a deep sigh, he picked up the ink pen and paper to write his personal profile on it. Though reluctant, Kurapika was somehow curious about what Kuroro was going to do.
“Here you are,” Kurapika mumbled and handed the paper over. Kuroro took a look at it; the writing was a little messy but still readable. Kuroro knew that Kurapika’s handwriting normally was neat and elegant, but this time he had written messily just to show his displeasure. A little childish act, but adorable, and Kuroro smirked.
“Kurapika Kurta, fourth of April, blood type AB. Okay.” Kuroro concentrated on the paper, he picked up the ink pen and lifted his right hand. He spun the pen in his fingers. Then his hand darted forward and wrote swiftly.
“Done. This is a present for you only,” Kuroro said with a strange smile. Kurapika couldn’t help shuddering. If he had to describe this smile, it would be as “awfully sweet”.
“It is a poem of four quatrains. Each verse represents a week of the current month. The first stanza is about something that has already happened.” Kuroro explained.
Kurapika froze. He knew, he knew what it was. This was his employer, Miss Neon’s ability “Lovely Ghostwriter.”
“Bastard! You called me out just to show off your stealing ability!? I already know that Miss Neon’s ability is stolen by you! You don’t need to prove this in front of me!” Kurapika was shouting in fury.
“Yes and no. Calm down, Kurapika. Take a look at the contents first, and you’ll know.” Kuroro still had the awfully sweet smile plastered on his face.
Kurapika glowered at Kuroro for a whole minute before he looked down at the paper.
‘Billions of stars in the sky, and you will shine the brightest in Red
By fate, you will meet your destined one again
You will be asked a question of life and death
Follow your heart, you will find your answer.’
‘Guided by the moonlight, two souls will become one
Two bodies in a coffin, which will be filled with black roses
The ring will be a gravestone, with their vow engraved
Six-feet-under, a beginning of a journey and a rebirth of joy.’
‘Your body will be ravaged by that very Man
Your heartbeat will resonate with that very Requiem
Your mind will be pierced by that very Mystery
And your soul will bond eternally with that very Darkness.’
Kurapika knew that Neon’s Lovely Ghostwriter used abstract references to events. In her prophetic poem, “sleep” always implied “death.” But for Kuroro, what would “death” and “funeral” mean? From his writing, it seemed that it would be turning a new page in life. What Kurapika could infer from the whole prophecy was that it was a metaphor… for… a wedding?!
“What…is…this…” Kurapika asked in a shaking voice. The image of Kuroro before him was twisting and the restaurant was turning. His vision became blurry.
“Prophetic love letter,” Kuroro replied in an awfully sweet tone.
Kuroro’s answer struck Kurapika like lightning. Kurapika was very shocked, and his heart almost stopped beating. His whole life flashed before his eyes. From birth through teen years to today…he had received a call from Kuroro…he and Kuroro were having a drink…Kuroro was writing on the paper…Wait-Wait-Wait! Kuroro was writing using his right hand!
If Kuroro had to use his stolen ability, he had to conjure his Skill Book in his right hand, and then his left hand could use the ability that was sealed in the book. But Kuroro wrote that “prophecy” with his right hand, so it was actually not a prophecy! Kuroro hadn’t used his ability! [Writer’s Note: the story is set at a time before Kuroro fights with Hisoka in Heaven’s Arena, i.e. Kuroro has not developed his new Bookmark ability. He cannot free both hands when using a stolen ability.]
“Kuroro…you haven’t used Nen, right? So it is NOT a prophecy?” Kurapika stuttered. He wanted to sound calm, but failed. He knew well how accurate Neon’s fortune telling ability was. He hadn’t used Gyo while watching Kuroro write, but he hadn’t sensed any change in his aura, either. Plus Kuroro had used his right hand. There was strong evidence that it was not Lovely Ghostwriter, therefore all Kuroro had written wouldn’t come true.
“Yes and no again.” Kuroro’s gaze bore into Kurapika. “Yes, I haven’t used Neon’s Lovely Ghostwriter. No, it is still a prophecy. I’ll do whatever it takes and take any means necessary to fulfill my will. The content of the love letter is going to happen, so it is not different from a 100% accurate prophecy. Is this clear enough?”
“No…it couldn’t be like that…no…It’s ridiculous, it’s crazy, it’s impossible…” Kurapika’s last shred of rationale was ripped away by Kuroro.
Kuroro leaned forward. “Will you marry me, Kurapika?” He asked it in a determined voice, eyes staring right at Kurapika’s frightened ones. The colour of Kurapika’s eyes was stained scarlet. He could see a vibrant red spreading out in Kurapika’s original eye colour. Oh, it was the most spirited scarlet in the world, and without a rival. It was the shade of red that Kuroro never felt was dull.
Kurapika closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them again with a frustrated look and said listlessly, “When…when will it happen…I mean this damn funeral?” How ironic life was. The ending of his life was that he happily lived forever after his own funeral and with his mortal enemy. How sick was that fairy tale?
“Next week. I’ll give you some time. Then, what’s your answer? I would love to hear a positive answer from you,” Kuroro replied expectantly.
‘You will be asked a question of life and death
Follow your heart, you will find your answer.’
Kurapika didn’t say a word. Kuroro watched, as Kurapika stood up tiredly and walked away. He didn’t answer. But Kuroro noticed Kurapika took the love letter with him, and he smiled. Kurapika was the person that he never got bored of.