Kurapika - Tumblr Posts

This is a comic that gives a glimpse into Leorio’s past, before becoming a zombie

If you’re new to the zombie Leorio AU, here is my tag for it.

Pages: P1&P2 / P3&P4 / P5&P6 / P7&P8 / P9&P10 / P11&P12 / P13&14

My HxH headcanons!(ik this ain’t what I usually post but I’m getting back into hxh lol)

Gon: He is a really good cook, like really good. He learned from aunt mito, they were always in the kitchen together when he was younger.

Killua: He would be really great with hair, he learned from doing Allukas hair when they were younger. It’s a skill he never forgot.

Illumi: His guilty pleasure is those crepes filled with ice cream. Hisoka most definitely showed him it, now he eats it in his free time secretly. He would over eat it like he would eat 72 of them in one day just cause.

Hisoka: Fills kids candy with razors during Halloween. (Sorry but he def would😭)

Feitan: Likes to tinker with things, like he makes weapons that he uses to torture his enemies.

Machi: Despite her name she hates things machi flavored.

Chrollo: Used to be an arts and craft person, like making bracelets and jewelry. He made them when he was little (like 7-8) he would make them with stuff he found in meteor city.

Alluka: Binge watchs my little pony and monster high religiously.

Leorio: Makes really corny dad jokes and references. Thinks he’s a comedic genius, even though no one laughs.

Kurapika: I feel like he would like really obscure bands.

I will still be posting black butler content but I kinda wanna branch out a lil more. I hope u all have a wonderful day remember to drink water.((๑╹ω╹๑ )

ƝЄƔЄƦ ƛԼƠƝЄ

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚡𝙷 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟺

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚊, 𝚐𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙, 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚔𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊.

Another day with the phantom troupe and you are already losing it. They are so smothering, physically and socially.

Let’s just say you no longer fear death.

Shalnark is the worst. Always with you doing something, everything Shalnark says was a hint of malice behind it he scares you.

Let me walk you through an average conversation with Shalnark “[readerrrrrrr] what are doing outside, you know your not supposed to be outside without a troupe member” he says as if you were a toddler caught in the cookie jar.

“I think you and me both know why I’m outside” you say, wasnt it obvious you hated it here and wanted to escape?

He walks up to you, you step back out of reflex “Next time you leave without a troupe member I’ll break your leg, as punishment” he says smiling. He pats you on the head before taking your hand and dragging you back inside.

So in short you are basically fucked, after that warning you stopped trying to escape. You now had little regard for your own life, as I said you no longer fear death. After what you have been through I can’t blame you.

Meanwhile with Killua and Gon they are currently scheming trying to find away to get you back. “They must be so scared!! What if they are torturing them or worse?!!” Gon said almost to tears at the thought of you being tortured.

Gon was like a chaotic mother hen, always stressing over you twenty four seven. Killua on the other hand was more calculated, in short he’s the brains of the two.

Kurapika and Leorio were with Gon and Killua the boys insisted on helping Kurapika with his revenge journey, mostly for you but also because Kurapika is a close friend and they want to help him.

Meanwhile with you, you were currently talking with Chrollo. Just about random things y’all liked it was weird to have such a normal conversation with them.

Chrollo had informed you that you were going with them to catch someone that worked with the chain user. Apparently he was working with a team of bodyguards. They were going to some hotel to find them.

So off you went, you were chilling by Machi’s side walking down some random street. Suddenly you felt a very familiar presence, the boys they were here. You had a knack for sensing people’s presence.

As much as you wanted to say something, you knew that this was your chance to escape from both of the groups of psychopaths.

So you devised a plan of escape, it was simple run when the boys attacked.

And soon enough they striked, sure enough you booked it as soon as they jumped out. The phantom troupe were caught off guard but recovered quickly. Unfortunately for them you had already started running and you didn’t plan on stopping.

The phantom troupe was to focused on the boys they didn’t notice you had already run off. After catching the boys Machi looked around “hey where’d the kid go?” Machi said confused despite you being right next to her she was too focused on the boys to notice that you slipped away.

The boys shared a look with each other a look of relief despite them being caught you had escaped that’s all that mattered.

You had run and didn’t stop you were finally free and this new found freedom gave you an adrenaline rush. It was euphoric, you were hopping on top buildings, going left, right, left right. Trying to make it hard for anyone following you to follow.

You were scared to look behind you what if you saw they chasing you. So when you were positive they couldn’t have followed you, you looked, no one was there. A wave of relief waged over you, you stood there in the rain for the first time in months, alone.

It was so nice you started crying, tears of joy it was amazing. Crying in the rain alone not having to worry about psychos smothering you.

After you stopped crying you realized how all that running made you insanely hungry. So you wondered the streets, you were broke so your only hope was to either dumpster dive or steal someone’s wallet. You were so hungry you didn’t care about the law.

With this new found wallet you bought your favorite food in the whole world, sat down and ate alone in peace. It was pure bliss you didn’t even care about the rain.

Eventually you found a nice ally way to sleep in, better than the phantom troupe you thought. As you found a flattened cardboard box to lay on a door creaked open slowly. You shrunk back scared. “Hello?” A child’s voice asked. You looked to see a kid that looked your age, blond hair and a big pink dress.

She scanned to ally and found you “oh are you alright?” She asked in a kind voice. “Yes miss dong worry about me I’ll be leaving now” you said rushing out of the ally but someone had snagged your shirt collar “I don’t want trouble honest” you said pleading.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” She said in an almost annoyed tone. “My names Biscuit Krueger just call me Bisky” she said holding you up by your shirt color like you were a kitten.

She inspected you intensely before staring at you wide eyed. After her shock wore off she put you down and ushered you inside despite your protests.

“Come along” she said leading you into her house “sorry miss bisky but i don’t even know you” you said planting your feet in the ground to stop her from dragging you.

“Your right how rude of me, what your name?” She asked as if she didn’t just shove you into her house. “[r-reader]” you said unsure if you should truthfully answer or not.

After getting more aquatinted she sat you down on her couc, brought you a towel and tea. “There is something very important I need to tell you” she said sounding like she was about to tell you you had cancer or something.

“There is something I sensed in your aura, something bad” she said worryingly “what do you mean?” You asked now worried “well this might be a stretch but I believe you have been hit with something that is affecting not only your aura but your entire being”

You were officially scared, could this explain the way the people around you have been acting?

“I’m entirely sure what is happened to you but I know that something is terrible happening to you” bisky said thinking about what could possibly be plaguing you. “….” You were lost in thought at first you thought she was insane dragging you into her house like this big the more you started thinking the more things made sense.

“Could this thing you are talking about could it, it affect the people around me?” You asked hopeing that you weren’t stuck with some type of virus making people act like this.

“Possibly, I need to do more research before I can answer, anything strange happen to you lately?” She asked.

I could name a mountain of things you thought. But how do you tell someone that not only did your closest friends turn psycho but the fricken phantom troupe kidnapped you and started playing a fucked up version of house.

“Well…. The people around have been acting strange… like possessive strange, always around me trying to keep me safe but it hurts me more than it helps” you told her trying to beat around the bush that you had been kidnapped.

“Well that is certainly strange, I’ll research it more, you should get some sleep” au said getting up “wait!” You said grabbing her hand “lemme help you, I’m not tired” you said trying to plead your case.

“The bags under your eyes say differently” she says pointing at the grey-purple blobs under your eyes.

“You can shower here I have spare clothes I’ll lay out a mat for you”

She leads you to a bathroom, giving you spare clothes to change into. You hopped in the shower, pure ecstasy washed over you. Finally peace, you thought washing yourself.

You had a sound sleep for the first night in months.

You woke up to Bisky shaking you, you opened your eyes looked up at her. She had a grim look on her face, big a good sign.

“What’s wrong??” You said now fully awake and worried.

Bisky sat you down and shared the grim news. “I didn’t want it to be true” she said sadly “but I’m almost positive……[reader] I believe you have been plagued with…. A nen curse”

“What is a nen curse??” You asked with a mix of curiosity and worry

“Some people in the world have the nen ability to give others curses.. of sorts. It’s complicated but a nen curse usually affect the persons nen but in your case it is affecting your entire being”

“…” you didn’t know what to say is this why people are treating you like you are made of glass?

“It most likely happened if you recently got into a fight with someone who can use nen” Bisky continued “I’m so so sorry this is happening yo you” Bisky says sympathetically.

You feel a strange stinging in your eyes, you were about to cry.

Then something went through your head bisky was most likely going to become like the rest of the people you talk too, “I-I need to leave” you say getting up in a hurry.

“Wait [reader]!” Bisky says grabbing your hand. “Look your going to become like everyone else I meet for mine and your own safety stay away!” You said grabbing your hand back before running out the door no longer even caring.

You life was over this stupid curse has ruined your whole life.

“[READER]!!” A male voice calls out, oh no it’s him RUN.

Suddenly you hear biskys voice “[reader]!! There might be a way to remove the curse!] she says desperately

To late.

That’s all for today, sorry to leave you on a kinda cliffhanger. BUT I will update tomorrow so don’t worry. Love you all have an awesome day remember to drink water!!(⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

Hxh headcannons!!

(I’m going through insane writers block rn but I need to keep posting so here some scrumptious headcannons)

Hisoka: he went to a carnival one time and got mistaken for a worker.

Illumi: he 100% knows how to breakdance, convince me otherwise.

Leorio: he once tried venting to Killua and gon and they laughed at him(they thought he was joking)

Killua: has zero cooking skills and claims he’s the master chef.

Kurapika: he listens to country, indie, and jazz music.

Shalnark: he drops the most insane lore and never elaborates on it.

Feitan: makes the most out of pocket, absurd comments known to man. (That’s actually semi cannon)

Nobunaga: often forgets what day of the week it is.

Phinks: despite being an air head he knows a lot of strange and interesting facts.

Shalnark: he knows how to help deliver a baby.(don’t ask him why because he refuses to tell people why)

Alluka: she loves flutter shy and pinkie pie from mlp. She is my little pony’s number 1 fan.

Head chair man netoro: he has some INSANE grandpa lore and constantly drops his lore like it’s nothing.

Ging freecs: he has a really big pet peeve about socks and sandals. He secretly used to wear socks and sandals but no one will ever know.

Aunt mito: she knows some really weird facts about the human body.

Bisky: tried making sushi and it caught on fire. She wasn’t even using anything hot.

Machi: either burns down the kitchen or manages to make a 5 star meal there is no in between.

Pakunoda: when she was younger she liked boy bands. She would dig through the rubble in meteor city looking for boy band CDs.

That’s all for today lol have an amazing day love u all!(๑>◡<๑)

i drew my fave boi

(!☆!: Reader is written as a female)

Ch. 1: The Fallen Shepherd is out now!

Author's Note: This is a rewritten version of an old idea I had planned for a fic/series, sparked by sudden inspiration and a plethora of ideas, as it takes place before the events of the York New Arc. I plan to update chapters weekly. As for now, here is the summary!

You were once a well-known Hunter, a name whispered with respect and fear alike, until you vanished, leaving your past behind. But when a young man’s tragic story awakens old wounds, you return, determined to finish one last job. Disguised as a devout follower, you infiltrate a quiet town where a beloved priest hides in plain sight. You soon recognize the ghost of the child you once cared for haunting the Phantom Troupe leader in question. As you walk the fine line between duty and personal guilt, you must decide: can you bring down the monster he’s become, or will the weight of your own failures trap you in his web?

☆ I just wanted to point out something that I found ironic and something I did not plan at all. How this fanfic’s first upcoming chapter takes place on September 1st and today is September 1st…how the stars align LMAO ☆

(!☆!: Reader is written as a female)

Author's Note: This is a rewritten version of an old idea I had planned for a fic/series, sparked by sudden inspiration and a plethora of ideas, as it takes place before the events of the York New Arc. I plan to update chapters weekly. As for now, here is the summary!

You were once a well-known Hunter, a name whispered with respect and fear alike, until you vanished, leaving your past behind. But when a young man’s tragic story awakens old wounds, you return, determined to finish one last job. Disguised as a devout follower, you infiltrate a quiet town where a beloved priest hides in plain sight. You soon recognize the ghost of the child you once cared for haunting the Phantom Troupe leader in question. As you walk the fine line between duty and personal guilt, you must decide: can you bring down the monster he’s become, or will the weight of your own failures trap you in his web?

A Chrollo x F!Hunter Reader Fic | Summary

Best advised to be read in dark mode. AO3 link coming soon!

★ 18+ MDNI WARNINGS: descriptive murder, burning of corpses, torture?, arson, slight implication of attempted suicide, gore, blood, violence, strong mentions of sexual abuse towards children including human trafficking, implied kidnapping, perversion of innocence, predators, CP, and implied rape. (NO I DO NOT ENDORSE THE ABUSE OF CHILDREN. it is only briefly mentioned since it is disgusting to keep the story realistic and strictly used as awareness since this is actual problems in the real world they don't just kidnap children. I WILL NEVER! write about non-con with underage characters or children, rape, and assault.) ★

☆ word count. 8.9k (sheeeesh had to hold back on somethings)

✥ Chapter Summary: Lost in the shadows of your despair, haunted by memories of the children you once saved, you find yourself drifting further from your purpose. But when a call from Chairman Netero breaks the silence, you're pulled back into a world you thought you'd left behind, drawn into the unknown for one last round — for the sake of saving a young man from making the same mistakes you did. ✥

The church was still, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candles. You remained in the pew, feigning prayer, while your mind wrestled with turbulent thoughts.

But before you found yourself here, in this quiet sanctuary, there was a journey—a path that led you back to the world you had once left behind.

“You can’t save them all.”

The words echoed in your mind—a truth you had grappled with for most of your life. So why was it so hard to accept that cruel reality? Why did you live your life the way you did? Most people would argue that they wish they had your power and skills. But they didn’t understand. They couldn’t comprehend the burden that came with such strength.

Why would anyone want to carry that weight for so long?

Power is a double-edged sword. If you aren’t corrupted by it, you’re crushed beneath its weight. How easy it is to destroy rather than create.

You often wondered why Netero had chosen you that day. What did he see first—the helpless child who had lost everything or the Hunter who would grow into his greatest soldier?

You trailed behind the men, each step leading you deeper into the belly of this vile place. They had no idea you were not one of them, no clue that every word you spoke and every move you made was part of a carefully laid trap. The air around you was thick with malice, a foul concoction of despair, fear, and predatory intent.

Since taking the head of your family’s killer, there has been a void in your heart—one you filled with vengeance.

But now, you had a new purpose: to use your power to hunt down the worst of humanity, like this network of mafia traffickers.

Suddenly, your senses sharpened. You heard it—a soft, muffled cry—the children.

The group leader, a man with greasy hair and a twisted grin, laughed. “You hear them, little rascals?” he sneered, gesturing ahead with a perverse pride. “Got a fresh batch of chicklings just yesterday. Innocent, full of life... worth a lot more in certain markets, if you catch my drift..."

A wave of revulsion swept over you, but you kept your face steady, fighting internally the burning in your throat.

Sick bastards. That’s all they were to you. There was nothing more vile than preying upon children, tearing away their innocence, and selling their pain.

Once, you had believed killing was always wrong. But when faced with monsters like these, death seemed like the only solution.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right, Mistress?” The leader’s voice was thick with expectation, his beady eyes studying you for any sign of weakness.

You met his gaze with a cold, calculated, calm one. “The price is no problem, but I’ll need to see the ‘quality’ of the children you speak of to ensure they’re worth it,” you replied, playing along with his sick game. He grinned, his yellowed teeth bared like a predator sensing victory.

“Of course, my lady, right this way,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him up a rickety flight of stairs.

As you ascended, you noticed the tapes scattered on the floor—stacks of them carefully labeled and arranged. Your heart sank at the sight. You knew exactly what they were: recordings of abuse. Child pornography is waiting to be sold and distributed. Evidence of what these children had endured and what they were being forced to relive in the most horrific way possible.

Images of small, terrified faces pinned to the walls, some in tears, others with expressions frozen in fear, burned into your mind. You forced yourself to keep moving, to keep your eyes forward, your face blank. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to lash out, but you had to stay focused. You had to see this through.

When you reached the top, he led you to a door and pushed it open with a creak. Inside, the children were huddled together, wide-eyed and trembling. At the front stood a small boy with big gray eyes—"The runt." of the group. His clothes were torn, dirt smeared on his cheeks, but there was something in his gaze—a spark of defiance that hadn’t yet been snuffed out. The other children seemed to hover protectively around him, even in their weakened states.

“Well, what do you think of these little lambs?” the leader asked, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Aren’t they precious?”

You glanced at the children, your heart aching. For a split second, your gaze softened when you saw the small, porcelain-skinned boy, his eyes locked onto yours. He seemed to sense something in you, something different. You took a slow, steady breath, and without moving your lips, you mouthed, “I’m here to help.”

The boy’s grip on the bars loosened slightly. Hope flickered in his big gray eyes. You could feel the children’s fear and desperation mingling with a fragile thread of trust. They were so small, so fragile, yet somehow still fighting.

“They are precious,” you murmured, your voice taking on a steely edge. “But not in the way you’re thinking.”

The men’s laughter faltered. They sensed the shift, but too late. You moved swiftly, raising your hand. A wall of stone shot up from the ground, separating the children from their captors. Panic spread among the men as they scrambled for their weapons, but you were already moving.

With a flick of your wrist, a vine extended from the stone wall, and in its grip, a sword was handed to you. The blade flashed, slicing through the air. In one swift motion, you severed their hands before they could draw their guns. Blood spattered against the walls, and the men screamed.

“You crazy bi—” one of them began, but his voice was cut off as you grabbed his face. Nen flames flared from your palm, melting his skin. His screams turned to a hideous, gurgling cry as you slammed him against the wall, against a picture of him touching one of the children.

“My flames are nothing compared to the ones you’ll face for eternity,” you said, your voice cold and unwavering.

"THE DEVIL! YOU'RE THE DEVIL!" he shrieked, his voice cracking in terror.

“YOU’LL GO TO HELL TOO!” another screamed.

You tilted your head slightly, unbothered. “I know,” you replied calmly. “And I’ll be right there with you... to make sure you suffer.”

With a final, furious surge of nen, you let the flames consume him, his body twitching as the fire took hold. One by one, the men fell, their screams swallowed by the inferno of your rage.

The air thickened with the stench of burning flesh, but all you felt was a calm, cold satisfaction. You took a deep breath, letting the fire die down, leaving only smoldering ashes behind.

The floor was now slick with blood, staining everything it touched. You closed your eyes and focused, drawing on your nen, the energy that flowed through your very being. You felt a ripple within yourself, a gathering of moisture in your veins, pulling towards your fingertips. With a single thought, you summoned it forth.

20%

A small, shimmering blob of water began to form, hovering just above your palm. It glistened with a faint blue hue, infused with your nen—your life force flowing through it. The water was more than liquid; it was an extension of your will, a manifestation of the purity and cleansing you desired.

You moved your hand slowly, and the blob expanded, reaching toward the crimson stains that pooled on the floor. It touched the blood, and a strange, almost serene reaction occurred. The nen-infused water seemed to drink up the blood, absorbing it into its depths, turning it from a crystalline blue to a dark, murky red. It quivered and shifted, gathering every last drop, until the floor was clean.

Once it was done, you flicked your wrist, and the blood-tainted water dissipated into steam, evaporating into the air. The scent of iron and smoke faded, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of moisture.

You turned to the vine still hanging from the wall. “Take the corpses to another room,” you said softly. “I don’t want the children to see this.”

The vine extended, wrapping around the charred remains and dragging them away, leaving the room clear. You watched it go, feeling a pang of sorrow in your chest. “I’m sorry, Mother,” you whispered, “but someone has to purge the evil, right?”

The vine nodded as if in understanding and vanished into the shadows.

With the room now clear, you lowered the stone wall, allowing the children to see. They were still huddled together, wide-eyed, trembling, but there was a new light in their eyes—a glimmer of hope.

You kneeled, using a tiny flame to illuminate the room gently. “You’re safe now,” you said softly, your voice switching to a delicate tone.

The small, marble-eyed boy stepped forward. His hand slipped into yours, his grip surprisingly strong for his size. “You back came for us?” he whispered, his voice shaking but resolute.

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently, a warm smile breaking through your hardened expression. “Always.”

The children began to move toward you, timid at first, then with growing confidence, their small hands reaching out, seeking comfort. For now, at least, they were safe.

And you would make sure it stayed that way.

It was mostly your funding that kept the orphanages in Meteor City from crumbling. Your money was funneled into the broken, forgotten corners of the city where children like Chrollo and his friends sought refuge. You couldn’t always be there, but when you were, you made it count—your presence, your touch, your attention. That was the difference, wasn’t it? You had to put your wealth somewhere, after all—unlike Ging or Pariston, whose fortunes seemed to disappear into the wind, chasing their whims. For you, though, Meteor City had become an escape, a place to atone for the things you couldn’t control.

But it was more than duty, wasn’t it?

Chrollo had bonded to you in a way that you hadn’t expected. The other children admired you, but he worshiped you. His innocence clung to you, unsettling and infectious, dragging you into a world where, for brief moments, you almost believed you could be more than just a Hunter. That you could be someone who stayed.

It was one of those quiet, unguarded moments when you found yourself in Meteor City again, his small, frail body curled up against yours on his bed, his head tucked beneath your chin as if he could melt into your very being. His face pressed into your chest, and his small hands clung to your shirt as if you were his entire world.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice soft, pleading. His wide gray eyes blinked up at you, still so full of that childlike adoration that made your chest tighten painfully. He didn’t understand—how could he? He was too young, too innocent.

You combed your fingers through his shaggy, jet-black hair, pretending it didn’t hurt to hear him ask. Pretending it didn’t make you feel like you were betraying something inside yourself. The glow from the window—the familiar golden light of dawn—signaled your impending departure. Mother Nature, it seemed, always knew when it was time to pull you away. You would have to leave again. You always left.

But not yet.

“Okay,” you whispered, the lie slipping from your lips like it always did. “I’ll stay.” You tucked his head back against your chest, hoping to drown his fears in the safety of your embrace. He felt so small compared to you, so fragile. You held him tighter, but no matter how tightly you cradled him, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. You couldn’t stay.

He sighed, his words soft and filled with frustration. “I wish you were just a normal girl. Not the Great Hunter. They always take you away from me.”

The weight of his words crushed your chest. You swallowed hard, burying the guilt and sorrow that always surfaced in these moments. He was just a boy, after all—a boy who didn’t know what it meant to live a life like yours. His love was simple, innocent, and untainted by the reality that you could never be what he wanted you to be.

He sighed again, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s not fair. You’re just a kid like me, but it’s like... you’re not. You’re stronger, taller... you have magic. You’re not afraid of anything.” His sleepy eyes blinked up at you, half-lidded, his gaze lingering on your face as if you were the only thing keeping him from falling asleep. “You’re so cool, Y/N.”

You forced a smile, your heart aching with every word. How could he say these things so easily, not knowing the storm they stirred within you? You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be feeling this pull toward him, this unbearable conflict between duty and something else—something darker, something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I want to be strong like you,” he continued, his voice fading as sleep began to pull him under. “Then I’ll be the one to save you.”

You let out a chuckle, though it felt hollow. “Oh really? I can’t wait to see you try.” Your voice was soft and gentle, as if you could keep him safe from the weight of your feelings. But even as you spoke, your gaze lingered on his longer than it should have. The way his eyes—those innocent gray eyes—held yours made something inside you crack. You didn’t want to look away.

And yet, you had to.

As Chrollo yawned, his body slowly relaxing into the warmth of your embrace, your heart clenched in that familiar, bittersweet way. You knew what was coming next—the moment when he would fall asleep, and you’d have to leave. You always left. He knew it too, even if he didn’t say it. His eyes fought against the sleep pulling him under as if staying awake would keep you there just a little longer.

You should go. You needed to go. But instead, you held him close, brushing your thumb along his cheek, tracing the outline of his pale face. He murmured something so soft, so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart shattered.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You didn’t respond. How could you? What could you say to that? You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You weren’t supposed to let it hurt. And yet, his innocent words cut deeper than any wound you had ever known.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you cradled his face in your hands, letting the silence fill the space between you. Your mind and heart were at war, clashing violently as you tried to convince yourself that you felt nothing for this boy—nothing beyond duty, beyond the role you were meant to play.

But his words lingered. His love lingered. And it was killing you.

Only you could carry this burden. You had to ensure that you were the last shepherd, even if you were just a broken saint now.

And when he called, you would answer, no matter how much time had passed since that harrowing incident.

Isaac Netero’s familiar contact flashed onto your phone just as you returned to your quiet estate. The grand home, surrounded by vast lands, had become your sanctuary—where time seemed to stand still. Bamboo trees swayed in the wind, whispering secrets you couldn’t quite hear, and the rustle of leaves was like a lullaby to your broken spirit. This land, untouched and isolated, had become your refuge. Here, you could pretend the world had forgotten you, just as you had tried to ignore it.

You rarely needed to leave; everything you required, you grew with your own hands. The earth was rich and forgiving; the bamboo was tall and kind, your only companions, as well as the critters that inhabited the land, your only solace. They tried to aid in healing your scars, though they only made the loss more bearable. They connected you to reality, keeping you grounded and pulling you back from the edge whenever you felt yourself slipping away. They depended on you as much as you did on them. 

But even Mother Nature, with all her quiet persistence, couldn’t fill the gaping void left by your loss. She could only make the emptiness more bearable, less suffocating.

You had given in to the silence, but she hadn’t given up on you. Yet the moment Netero’s contact appeared, the corpse of your heart couldn’t help but beat with a retired purpose you knew you could no longer fulfill.

Still, your hands, worn and deft, quickly picked up the phone, bringing it to your ear.

“Y/N L/N. Think you have a chance to talk, my dear?”

His familiar, softened gruff voice was a reminder of how time had aged him, even though he had left you with so many unanswered questions. He was still your father in many ways.

But you were now Netero’s little fallen general.

“I’m here,” you replied, your voice a ghost of itself, as if unused to forming words meant for anyone else. “It's good to hear your voice. I would ask, How have you been?”

“I am well, Father,” you cut in, a weary undertone threading through your words. “Trying to keep the ground from swallowing me whole.”

A heavy silence fell between you, a shared history that neither of you wanted to address hanging thick in the air. Netero sighed, his voice dipping into a tone you had not heard in years—gentle, almost pleading. 

“Y/N…”

You remained silent, unyielding, waiting for him to continue.

“Listen to me, just this once,” he started, but you interrupted again, sharper this time, like a blade cutting through the fog.

“My nen is gone, Isaac," you said, each word deliberate and hard. "There’s nothing more to that story. There is no Master of the Hunters anymore.”

The silence that followed was colder, heavier. You could almost hear him wince at the use of his first name, a name you rarely called him. You knew it hurt him—that it stripped away the façade he liked to wear around you.

He hesitated, then took a deep breath, his voice laced with quiet desperation. “I'm not asking for her to listen to me,” he said carefully. “I'm asking for you, Y/N.”

Your gaze drifted to the bamboo outside, watching the stalks bend and sway in the wind. There was a part of you that wanted to hang up, to let the silence consume you once more, but another part—a faint, barely alive spark—kept you on the line.

“There is a young man,” Netero continued, “who is the spitting reincarnation of you."

Your chest tightened, the ache spreading like a slow poison through your veins. You swallowed, but it felt like shards of glass in your throat.

Netero’s voice softened, almost as if he were trying to soothe a frightened child. “I know I pushed you to retire early, and for that, I am sorry,” he confessed, his words heavy with regret. “I couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen if the wrong people found out you had lost your nen. But this boy—he needs someone who can show him the way. Someone who can give him a chance to choose a different path. A scent he can follow.”

He paused, the weight of his words settling into the air between you. “None of us can do that.”

A flicker of frustration sparked within you, threatening to crack the numbness you had wrapped around yourself like armor. You closed your eyes, the familiar heaviness of duty pressing against your chest. "Why... why do you always drag me back, Isaac?" you murmured, your voice almost devoid of emotion, a whisper lost in the wind.

“Because,” he replied softly, his voice steady but filled with quiet insistence, “you lost your nen, but you didn’t lose everything. I couldn’t save you from your fate... but you can save him before he makes the same mistake.”

For a moment, the world outside seemed to be still. The bamboo stopped swaying, the wind held its breath, and even the critters paused their quiet movements. Everything waited for you to decide whether you would let yourself be pulled back into the life you had tried so hard to leave behind.

A slow exhale escaped your lips, and your grip tightened around the phone. Maybe it wasn’t about saving yourself. Maybe it was about saving someone else—just one more time.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally whispered, knowing you were already halfway convinced.

Netero's sigh of relief was almost inaudible, but you felt it—a soft echo in your chest. "That's all I ask," he said gently. "Just think about it."

And with that, the call ended, leaving you standing alone in the quiet of your sanctuary, the wind picking up again, the bamboo swaying once more.

For the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of something beyond emptiness—a faint, fragile thing that might have been hope.

You let yourself fall back against the mat, feeling the familiar, frayed edges pressing into your back. Your phone lay loosely in your grip, screen dark, but its weight still anchored you to the moment. You stared blankly at the stone pond before you, the water still and silent under the overcast sky. But inside, that gnawing feeling had grown stronger, louder, and more insistent. The doubt and emptiness you had tried so hard to bury now surged to the surface like a wave, threatening to swallow you whole.

Then you saw her—the familiar, ethereal form rising from the pond—"Mother," your nen-made spirit, tilting her head at you, trying to read the emotions you kept so tightly locked away. Her shape shimmered and wavered, the liquid surface of her body catching the dim light, reflecting a thousand tiny, dancing fragments of your surroundings.

“You’re cruel...” you muttered, not bothering to lift your head. You didn’t need to see her to know she was there, watching you with a concern you could not bear. The water spirit hovered closer, her presence radiating a gentle insistence. A wave of water reached out, almost like a hand, and as she moved, droplets broke away and splattered onto your face. The cool water trickled down your skin, obliging you to finally look up and meet her gaze.

Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her form, the way her edges seemed to blur and tremble, told you everything. She was worried. She is always worried. Especially when you have attempted to end your suffering...

Seeing her like that... It only made the ache worse. It plagued you and gnawed at you like an open wound. You hated it. You hated feeling like this—so useless, so empty. Once, you had been so certain of your place in the world, so sure of your purpose. You had moved like a blade through the darkness, cutting down every evil in your path. You had saved countless lives and fought battles that others had deemed impossible. You mattered.

And now... now it felt like all of that was gone. Stripped away the moment your nen vanished. When it had left you, it had taken everything with it. Your sense of self, your purpose, your reason for being—it had all crumbled to dust, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind.

"Quit it," you muttered, your voice low and tired. "I'm not in the mood."

But Mother didn’t listen. She never did. Instead, she moved closer, her form rippling like a soft wave, the water elongating until it seemed to reach across the space between you. With a sudden, playful motion, she curled around your feet, a cold grip tightening around your ankles. Before you could protest, she yanked you off the mat, dragging you across the ground.

“Really?” You groaned, exasperation flaring. You knew what she was doing. She was trying to wake you up, to stir something inside you. “Cut it out, Mother.”

She didn’t respond. The water around your ankles tightened, and with another tug, she lifted you upside down, your hair falling toward the ground. The blood rushed to your head, and you blinked, momentarily disoriented. For a moment, you dangled there like a rag doll over the pond, your feet held aloft by a watery tendril.

You found yourself staring directly into her face—or what passed for a face—her liquid eyes focused intently on you, unblinking, unwavering. She was demanding your attention, forcing you to look at her to confront whatever was buried deep inside. The silence stretched between you, filled only by the gentle slosh of water moving with every slight motion.

“I said quit it,” you repeated, a hint of irritation in your voice. But she didn’t budge. Her expression seemed almost stern. The water droplets that made up her body shivered slightly, as if she were speaking a language only you could understand.

Mother’s form shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her head tilted again, and for a second, she almost seemed to frown. The water that held you up began to twist and turn, slowly spinning you in the air as if examining you from every angle. Her touch was cold, but there was something else there—something gentle, almost comforting, beneath the chill. She wouldn’t let you hide from this. She wouldn’t let you sink back into the darkness you’d been wallowing in for so long.

“Quit it, Mother,” you muttered, voice strained, but there was no real fight in your tone. You were too exhausted to fight her, too tired to do much more than dangle there, your heart heavy and your purpose frayed.

Mother, ever persistent, moved the water around you in a swirl, as if shaping something from the depths of her core. You felt a coldness, a thin sheet of water sliding up to your face, and then you saw it—your reflection mirrored perfectly in the water.

But Mother didn’t stop there. Slowly, deliberately, she turned the reflection around.

Your eyes widened as you caught sight of your own back and your skin. The large, red Hunter symbol emblazoned between your shoulder blades, stark against your flesh, with the L/N family symbols woven underneath, bearing the phrase that had once given you strength:

"No child left behind." 

The words, so familiar, stared back at you with a cruel clarity. Your vow, your creed. The promise you had whispered to yourself a thousand times over, in the darkest nights, in the quiet moments of despair. The very words you had once tattooed onto your skin were like armor against the world.

Your breath caught in your throat. You tried to look away, but Mother twisted the mirror slightly, making sure you couldn’t escape it.

The reminder was as sharp as a blade, cutting through your excuses and your self-pity.

You were The Great Hunter, not because of the nen you wielded, but because of the promise you had made. Because of the innocent you had sworn to protect.

Mother watched, her watery eyes soft but firm, refusing to release you until the weight of that reflection settled back into your bones.

You sighed, a long, tired exhale, and for a moment, just a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the ache of that old purpose stirring within you.

She stared back, unyielding. Her watery surface rippled slightly, as if in response to your unspoken thoughts, and you felt a tear prick at the corner of your eye. A tear you quickly blink away. The silence stretched on, filled with everything you weren't saying—filled with all the things she knew you didn’t want to admit.

You sighed, feeling the fight leave you, your shoulders slumping. “Fine. Fine, you win,” you said quietly, feeling defeated, but in a way that almost felt like relief. She had always been there to stop you from corrupting yourself, always pushing you, always forcing you to face the things you wanted to ignore. And now, as much as you hated to admit it, you needed her to do it again.

You felt her release your ankles, and for a moment, you simply stood there, breathing, your heartbeat slowing, the cool air biting at your skin. She hovered closer, her watery hand reaching out as if to touch your face, but she hesitated, just a fraction of an inch away. You stared into her eyes, feeling something inside you break loose like a dam giving way.

You hated this... You hated feeling like you were nothing. Like you were just a vessel for the person you used to be.

Your Nen was gone, but you were still here. That gnawing, insatiable need to matter, to make a difference, was still there, burning quietly beneath the surface.

You took a breath, your fingers tightening around the phone still in your hand. "Alright," you whispered, almost to yourself. "Alright, I'll do it."

Mother seemed to shimmer, her form brightening slightly as if she were smiling. Her droplets swirled around you, a gentle, swirling dance of liquid light like she was encouraging you, cheering you on.

Your thumb moved over the phone screen, almost of its own accord, and you found Netero’s name again, hesitating for just a heartbeat before you pressed the call button. The phone rang once, twice, and then his voice came through—calm but expectant as if he had known you would call back.

“Y/N?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, steeling yourself, and then spoke, your voice steady. “Where is he?”

You stepped off the airship, choosing to take a more grounded approach this time. It had been so long since you walked among society; today, you wanted to feel the earth beneath your feet and hear the noise of life all around you. Normally, you would have flown in on Khan, your Seraphrid—a creature resembling a winged horse, only larger and more formidable, a loyal companion since your youth. But today felt different.

As expected, Khan had already beaten you here. His sleek, black form stood tall among the trees, his six powerful legs moving with an elegance that defied his size. His head was turned in your direction, and the two long, string-like antennae that served as his natural bridle extended, sensing your presence. They wrapped around your arm, their touch gentle but firm, syncing with the veins on the underside of your wrist. The bond was immediate, an ancient connection that required no words.

With a familiar pull, you mounted him, his raised hoof serving as a stepping stool, an unspoken offer only the two of you understood. You clicked your tongue softly, a signal you’d always used, and he responded with a low, rumbling neigh that resonated through your bones.

Khan didn’t need instructions. He read your intentions through the link you shared, feeling the subtle shifts in your thoughts and emotions. He began to trot into the dense forest, guided by your thoughts alone, the rhythm of his steps matching the cadence of your heartbeat.

Netero had informed you that the young man, the one you were to meet, was training in these woods. He had given you the young man’s contact information, though he had been elusive with any real details. When you had pressed for more information, Netero had only chuckled, his words tinged with mystery: “You’ll see...”

Typical of him to leave you to uncover the truth on your own, to dig up the bone yourself, like always. As Khan weaved through the thick underbrush, you found yourself wondering about this boy. What was it about him that had made Netero reach out to you after all this time? What was so special that it warranted pulling you back into this world?

The dense forest began to thin, opening into a sun-dappled clearing. Khan slowed to a gentle canter, his antennae twitching as if sensing something ahead. You felt it too—a presence, quiet yet intense, like a heartbeat echoing through the trees.

This had to be the place. As you dismounted, Khan’s gaze remained fixed forward, his body tense and alert. You patted his side, reassuring him, and he relaxed slightly, though his eyes never wavered from whatever lay beyond the clearing.

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar stir of curiosity and something deeper—something that felt like the whisper of purpose reigniting within you. Stepping forward, you moved into the clearing, ready to meet the young man Netero had sent you to find, ready to face whatever awaited you on the other side.

You dismounted slowly, your feet sinking into the damp earth as the coolness of the soil crept up through your boots, grounding you in the present moment. The clearing before you stretched wide, dappled sunlight breaking through the thick canopy above, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of moss and earth, a living, breathing presence around you. Khan stood tall beside you, his powerful form coiled with restrained energy, his antennae twitching in tune with the undercurrent of tension that rippled from you like a stone dropped in water.

Ahead, the low murmur of voices reached your ears, punctuated by the rhythmic clack of wood striking wood and the sharp rustle of leaves disturbed by quick, deliberate movements. You moved forward slowly, cautiously, each step bringing the sounds into sharper clarity. As you reached the edge of the clearing, you paused, taking in the scene before you.

Two figures moved with practiced grace, their forms entwined in a dance of combat, their bodies speaking a language of strength and discipline. One of them, tall and broad-shouldered, had a presence that radiated intensity and control—Izunavi, a hunter you had known from years ago. His sharp, unwavering gaze and the calm precision of his movements marked him as a hunter, one who had taught countless others the art of survival.

But it was the boy who drew your attention.

He was younger than you had imagined, his golden hair catching the sunlight like a halo, his eyes narrowed in concentration, a fierce determination burning in their depths. His posture was taut, muscles coiled and ready, every motion calculated and precise as he mirrored Izunavi’s steps, his gaze never faltering, never leaving his mentor for even a heartbeat. His body moved with the grace of a predator, but there was a tension there—a rawness, a desperation that was almost painful to watch.

So this was Kurapika.

Your breath caught in your throat. It was like staring into a ghost, a specter of who you had once been—a younger self, with that same consuming fire, that same drive, that same reckless need to prove something to a world that had never shown mercy. You recognized the look in his eyes immediately. You had seen it in your reflection, in the faces of those you had saved and those you had failed. The beast of burden lay heavy in his gaze, the weight of vengeance familiar darkness that seemed to clutch at his very soul.

He was still a child. Just as you had been—a child thrust into a world too cruel and too vast, carrying a burden too heavy for shoulders so young. You lingered in the shadows, your heart tightening in your chest, a sense of foreboding curling in your gut. Finally, you decided to step forward, your presence pressing through the air like a ripple in still water.

Izunavi’s movements stilled. He sensed you first, his eyes flickering toward you, his expression a mask of calm neutrality, though you saw the faint recognition behind his eyes. His stance eased, a subtle acknowledgment. Kurapika followed his gaze, turning to face you, and the intensity of his scrutiny hit you like a blow—a look so piercing it seemed to strip away layers, searching, demanding answers before he even spoke.

“Master,” Izunavi greeted, his tone respectful but carrying a hint of something harder beneath. "Netero told me you might be dropping by."

"Y/N," you corrected, voice soft but firm. Each syllable felt heavy in your mouth, burdened by the memories of your past. You inclined your head slightly, stepping fully into the clearing, moving with purpose, though a knot tightened in your stomach. "It’s been a while, Izunavi," you said, your voice sounding almost foreign to your ears. "I see you’ve taken on another pupil."

Izunavi nodded. "One with a special kind of determination," he replied, a note of pride softening his otherwise stern demeanor. He glanced at Kurapika, who stood like a coiled spring, ready to snap. "Kurapika, this is Y/N L/N—once known as Master Hunter, The Great Hunter, the Hound of the Hunters… too many names to count."

Kurapika’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of your name. Recognition flickered across his features—his expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, something darker. You could almost see the thoughts racing behind his gaze, the questions forming, and the curiosity and anger mingling in a storm of emotion.

Netero had left you a note from the first examiner of the 287th Hunter Exam: "Kurapika Kurta said he wishes to become a Hunter to exact revenge on the Phantom Troupe and seek aid from the Master Hunter." The Phantom Troupe, a name you had only heard in passing, a whisper of a threat, a gang too small to matter back then. But now, seeing Kurapika’s face, you realize how much had changed and how much you had missed.

“Where were you that day?” Kurapika’s voice was low but steady, each word laced with a simmering rage that seemed barely contained. "I read stories about you... Master Hunter, the one who made crime vanish like mist before the sun. When my people were slaughtered, I didn’t fear, because I knew—you would come. You would hunt them down for me."

The pain in his voice was like a knife twisting in your chest. “I waited years for you! Held onto that hope until I had no choice but to become the hunter I needed.”

His voice cracked, but the fury within it did not waver. "You let them walk this earth after what they did to me... to my people." His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white, his breath ragged. And then you saw it—the flash of scarlet behind his gray contacts, the burning rage of his clan's curse, the anger and grief all mixed into one volatile storm.

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard against it. The weight of his accusation bore down on you like a physical force. In your absence, the world had shifted and twisted, and you had been powerless to stop it. You had lost your Nen that day, the day you had lost everything.

That’s why you weren’t there.

The same beast of burden now latched onto him had once latched onto you. You had failed him, and his words cut deep into whatever was left of your fractured soul. If only you had known... If only you had hunted them when they were small, a mere whisper of a threat. If only…

But you hadn’t. And now you were facing the result of that failure.

Your silence hung heavy in the air. You felt the burn in your eyes, the sting in your throat, and the weight of every decision and every choice you had made that led to this moment. There was nothing you could say to erase the pain in his eyes—the sense of betrayal that seemed to radiate from him like heat.

Kurapika's expression hardened, his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing to slits. “I need justice,” he said, his voice colder now, like a blade drawn against a stone.

You drew a deep breath, fighting against the rising tide of emotion within you. “Justice is a fine line, Kurapika,” you replied quietly, meeting his gaze with a steady resolve. “And revenge can blur it until you don’t know which side you’re on.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a mixture of fury and something deeper—something fragile and almost broken. He turned away, shoulders tense, his footsteps heavy, as if carrying the weight of the world on his back. A part of you wanted to reach out, to stop him, to pull him back from the edge. But you knew better than to force it. He had to find his way, just as you had.

“Kurap-” Izunavi began, his voice edged with concern, but you raised a hand, silencing him. Your eyes remained on Kurapika’s retreating form, watching as he disappeared into the trees, swallowed by the shadows.

“Let him go,” you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I’ll talk to him later... once he’s cooled off."

Izunavi hesitated but finally nodded, trusting your judgment. You stared into the forest where Kurapika had vanished, the weight of his words still heavy on your heart. You knew that if he continued on this path, it would lead only to more pain and more loss. You weren’t sure you could bear to watch someone else descend into the same darkness that had swallowed you whole.

You had to try for his sake and yours.

“How far is he in his Nen?” you asked, breaking the stillness. Izunavi turned, his expression solemn.

“He's a determined, quick learner, but he’s already made those terrible vows for his Nen ability. It’s been five months since he started, and he’s planning something for September 1st.”

Next month, you thought. Not much time. “Is it related to the Troupe?”

“Positive.” Izunavi’s response was immediate; his voice edged with tension.

You sighed deeply, feeling the familiar heaviness in your chest. Another lost child, another soul standing at a precipice. The memory of the children from Meteor City flickered in your mind—those small, eager faces filled with both mischief and hope. Even now, you could remember the way they looked up to you, their eyes wide with wonder and something more—something like belief.

Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks—all those troublemakers who had once felt like yours in some way despite being the same age. You had often wondered where they were now, how life had treated them, and if they had stayed on the path you had hoped for them. Maybe, when all of this was over, you’d find them again. Just to see. Just to know.

Izunavi’s voice pulled you back. “His vows are monstrous, Y/N. I don’t know what he sacrificed, but his chains are still out of control. He’s powerful, but he can’t command them yet.”

“Chains?” You repeated, an eyebrow arching in surprise. “That’s his ability?”

Izunavi nodded gravely. “Yes. He wants to bind the spiders to hell with them.”

A small, amused laugh slipped past your lips, as that did sound like something he would say. Then your expression turned serious. “Izunavi… I’ve lost my Nen. If I decide to teach this boy, will you be my eyes?”

Izunavi blinked, momentarily stunned, but he quickly nodded, his gaze steady and filled with a new understanding. “I will,” he promised softly. “But... are you ready for this?”

You took a breath, the weight of your own words settling within you. “I wasn’t Netero’s best hunter just because of my Nen.”

You could still feel Nen, even Mother’s Nen whenever she came to you, like a whisper at the back of your mind, a gentle reminder of the power that once flowed through you like a river. You hadn’t lost your instincts—if anything, losing your Nen had sharpened them. It was like losing a sense and gaining another. You could feel things now, in ways that other Nen users couldn’t—like sensing the shift in the air before a storm.

Izunavi hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice a little softer, a little more unsure. “Y/N, you can do it? Teach him? With your Nen gone…?”

You looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “I can.”

Izunavi seemed to consider your words, then nodded again, more firmly this time. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll be your eyes.”

Your gaze drifted toward the direction where Kurapika had stormed off, your thoughts tangled with the past and the present. You knew the path he was on—you had been there yourself once. And you didn’t want Kurapika to stain his hands as you had stained yours, even if it was for what you believed was “good.”

If you could help him find another way—if you could keep his hands clean, you would. You were willing to stain yours all over again for the sake of keeping him from the blood that had already marked too many lives.

You had to operate in his shadow. Teaching Kurapika while also trying to beat him to the Phantom Troupe would be no easy task—especially if you had to do it behind his back. There was still so much you didn’t know. The years you spent disconnected from society left gaps in your knowledge. You couldn’t deny it, and the thought made you clench your fist. At least you could still rely on the physical strength of the L/N bloodline—but even that might not be enough. What if the Phantom Troupe’s Nen abilities were stronger than you anticipated? If they were all together, no matter how much experience you had, they could easily overwhelm you by sheer numbers.

What if you couldn’t protect Kurapika? The thought sent a shiver up your spine.

This was a mess just waiting to explode.

Izunavi watched you quietly, sensing the shift in your mood, the old scars being reopened, and the new purpose forming in your heart. You felt the stirrings of a familiar resolve—a quiet, burning fire that refused to go out.

“Let’s start now,” you said, meeting Izunavi’s gaze with a calm but determined look. “We have until September 1st. I won’t let him fall.”

You followed Kurapika as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Shadows lengthened, and the woods grew quieter, the sounds of the day's creatures giving way to the night’s. You had given him time—enough time, you hoped—for his anger to cool and for his heart to steady. But you knew that the embers of rage didn’t die so easily; they could smolder for a long, long time.

You found him near the lake, sitting against a tree with his knees pulled up, his blonde hair catching the last rays of sunlight like threads of gold. He stared blankly ahead, lost in thought, his face a mask of quiet resolve. You watched him for a moment from a distance, letting your presence be felt without imposing yourself. You knew words wouldn’t be enough—not yet, not for a boy with a fresh wound.

Slowly, you made your way toward him, moving carefully and deliberately, leaving space for him to turn you away if he chose. He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t push you away either. That, in itself, was something. You took a seat beside him, leaving enough distance between the two of you to let him feel unpressured but close enough that your presence was felt. You let the silence stretch, understanding that sometimes it was the only thing that could truly speak.

After a while, you finally broke the silence, your voice soft, almost tentative. "You want to hunt the Troupe, right?"

Kurapika didn’t move at first, his eyes still fixed on the water. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but resolved. “I don’t have a choice.”

The words hung between you, heavy with finality. You have heard that before, spoken in different ways by different people. It was always the same. A choice made in desperation, when the soul felt trapped by the past, by the need to correct something that could never truly be fixed.

“You always have a choice,” you replied softly, your tone neither reprimanding nor coddling. It was simply a statement of fact.

Kurapika shifted, his hands tightening around his knees. “Not when it comes to this. Not when it comes to them.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, studying the lines of tension etched across his young face. He was still so young—too young for this kind of rage to live so deeply inside him. But rage wasn’t something that cared for age, wisdom, or even reason. You knew that better than anyone.

“They took everything from me,” he continued, his voice harder now, laced with bitterness. “Everything. My family, my home, my future. I can’t just let that go!”

You exhaled slowly, a quiet sigh that was lost in the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. “Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting,” you said gently. “It doesn’t mean forgiving either. But this path you’re walking... It’s not just about revenge anymore. It’s about who you become at the end of it.”

Kurapika’s eyes flicked toward you then, sharp and wary like he was expecting a lecture he’d heard a thousand times before. But you weren’t here to preach.

“I’m not asking you to stop,” you clarified, your gaze still on the water, the gentle waves reflecting the dying light. “I know that’s not an option for you. But you need to be careful, Kurapika. Rage has a way of consuming everything in its path. It’ll burn through you if you’re not careful. Until there’s nothing left of the person you used to be.”

He was silent for a moment, absorbing your words. The tension in his body hadn’t lessened, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—uncertainty, perhaps. Or maybe it was understanding.

“I can control it,” he said, his voice quieter now, but the determination in it was unmistakable. “I have to.”

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his resolve. “Control is important. But you also need balance. Power without purpose is dangerous, even to yourself.”

Kurapika frowned, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Purpose? My purpose is to kill them.”

You turned to face him fully then, your eyes locking onto his. “And after that? What happens when they’re gone? What’s left for you?”

The question caught him off guard. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. For a moment, the hard façade he had built around himself seemed to crack, and you saw the lost boy beneath. A boy who had lost everything and didn’t know how to live without his hatred to guide him.

“That’s why I’m here,” you continued, your voice softening. “I’ve walked this path before. I know where it leads. If you’re not careful, you’ll reach the end of it and find that nothing is waiting for you on the other side. Nothing but emptiness.”

Kurapika’s hands slowly unclenched, his fingers tracing the edge of his sleeves as if grounding himself in the present moment. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the conflict in his eyes.

You reached out then, gently placing your hand on his shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort. “I’m not saying this to stop you,” you said, your voice low, almost a whisper. “But I am saying you need to think about what comes next. After the bloodshed. After the vengeance. What will you be left with?”

Kurapika lowered his head, the weight of your words sinking in. The silence stretched between you again, but this time it wasn’t filled with tension. It was a moment of quiet reflection.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice barely audible.

You gave a small nod, squeezing his shoulder lightly before pulling your hand back. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know yet. Just... don’t lose yourself in the process.”

For a long moment, Kurapika didn’t move, his gaze fixed on the ground, deep in thought. When he finally looked up, there was a new clarity in his eyes, though the fire still burned there, too. He wasn’t ready to let go of his vengeance, but at least now he was starting to see the danger in letting it consume him completely.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady but quieter than before.

You nodded again, satisfied for now. It was a start. He would need time to fully understand what you meant, but at least the seed had been planted. And as much as you wanted to protect him from the pain of the path he was walking, you knew he had to walk it for himself. All you could do was guide him along the way.

As the last traces of daylight disappeared from the sky, you stood up, brushing the dirt from your pants. “Come on,” you said, offering him a hand. “Let’s head back before it gets too dark.”

Kurapika hesitated for a moment before accepting your hand, pulling himself up to his feet. He stood beside you, his gaze lingering on the horizon for just a moment longer before he nodded, turning to follow you back toward the camp.

As you walked side by side, the soft sounds of the night surrounding you, you couldn’t help but glance at him, the weight of the future heavy between you both.

The journey was far from over...

© eyesofbong. All rights reserved. Do not plagiarize my work. If you see this content on any account that is not mine, please report it. My work is only available on this platform and on AO3 under the name @eyesofbong

⊹ ₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ To tame a mermaid's heart₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Yandere! Adult trio x Mermaid! Reader. (Chrollo x reader in this chapter).

Side pairing: Illumi x Hisoka.

[ Master list ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: After being kidnapped by Chrollo, a certain clown and assassin took an interest in her as her childhood friend, Kurapika Kurta, tried to free her from the clutches of those monsters. But perhaps, Kurapika has become one too.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Chapter: 1 of the miniseries.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Yandere theme, Kidnapping and human/mermaid trafficking, drugs and overall, horror themes, oh! And i named the reader "Maki".

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 1.3k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Requested by: @animerules898

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

The auction light burned her vision, making her cover her eyes as soon as the curtains were opened, the people letting out a gasp as they stared at the scene infront of them. Rumors has it that a mermaid was being auctioned off at the mafia auction this year, and from the looks of it, it looks like the rumours were true as they all watched her blink in confusion, her tail shining brightly as the light from the auction hall hit it, making the vibrant colours appears more mesmerizing.

They all stared at her, listening to the host intensely as everyone wanted the mermaid to themselves. After all, mermaids are rare, and if you managed to make one transform, it can provide great and powerful offsprings.

She looked confused at first before the situation finally dawn upon her as she tried to look for a way to escape, but being enclosed in a tank didn't help her case. As she looked at the crowd and the host in panic, the crowd started to bet more and more, competing against each other to buy her. She was beautiful, as all mermaids are, but what made her more desirable was how innocent and helpless she looked, which just fueled the desires of the people in the auction house more, with one common thought, 'I can't wait to break her.'

After almost half an hour later, she was auctioned off, and in her frantic state, she didn't look at who brought her as a lady started to push her tank towards the storage.

"Kortopi, are you going to make a copy of her too?" The lady that took her to the storage room asked, glancing at a strange man. He had a thick and messy mane of grey hair covering his entire head and obscuring everything except for his left eye. He also had a small mouth and round head. He wore a light blue tunic, light blue pants beneath it, and black shoes.

Kortopi nodded as the lady pushed her tank towards him, as another girl, seemingly called 'Shizuku' as the lady referred to her as, looked at the mermaid with great interest.

The mermaid shifted uncomfortably in the tank, trying to make herself as small and as far away from the top of the tank as she could as a man with blonde hair and black eyes tried to pull her out of it. He looked fairly tall and muscular. His most distinguishing features where his piercing eyes and lack of eyebrows, making the mermaid almost giggle before she remembered where she was.

Suddenly, she was pulled out of the tank in an blink of an eye, by a string as a girl with pink hair rolled her eyes. The mermaid, shocked at what just happened, laid on the ground for a few seconds before looking straight at the girl with pink hair. The mermaid's hair were wet, and so was her whole body as she pant heavily, finding it a bit difficult to breath as her atmosphere suddenly changed.

"Machi, be gentle! Leader told us to bring her without any bruises or cuts!" A man with blond hair and bright green eyes wearing a lavender outfit, exclamated.

"She wasn't going to come out on her own, Shalnark." Someone said as the mermaid was too busy being dragged towards Kortopi, struggling on her way as Phinks tried to keep her to stay still. The mermaid whimpered, feeling distressed at the whole overdeal as she flinched as Kortopi put his hand on top of her head, focusing on greating a copy of her with his fake gallery.

The mermaid watched in the mixture of fear and curiosity as her exact replica was created besides her, the only think that made her unique from her replica was that her replica didn't feel as lively as she did, making the replica almost look like a doll.

"Kortopi, why does the replica look... A bit different from the mermaid?" Shizuku asked, staring intensely at the replica and the mermaid infront of her. Phinks agreed before Kortopi began to explain.

"Mermaids can not be replicated fully, it's one of the things that make them so unique and rare." The mermaid nodded along in almost a child-like manner as she glanced at Kortopi.

Suddenly, the mermaid felt pain in her neck before her eyes were blindfolded as she began to loss conciousness.

"Good thing they are vulnerable to all type of drugs then." Was the last thing she heard before she lost her conciousness.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

The mermaid woke up in a tank, in the middle of a room inside of an abandoned building.

The mermaid groaned, bubbles forming from the action as she looked around before spotting a figure sitting nearby, reading what looked like a Bible. He had slick black hair that were pulled back, wearing a fluffy jacket without anything underneath with a weird tattoo on his forehead. The mermaid stared at him in silence, fear slowly creeping in the longer she stared at the man who was calmly reading the book with the help of the light generated by a candle.

The mermaid flinched as the man shut off his book, turning around to made eye contact with her.

"You're awake." He smiled as he approached her, making the poor mermaid swim as far back as the tank would allow to keep her distance from the man.

"Shhh, don't be, scared, love, you are mine, now. You shouldn't be scared." The man whispered as he stared at her.

There was something unsettling in his gaze, something more unsettling at the way he talked, making the mermaid fear him more.

The mermaid squeaked in fear as he grabbed her arm, pulling her out of her water tank as he pulled her towards his chest, sliding an arm underneath her tail to support it as he nuzzled against her neck.

"Mine... You don't know how long I have waited to get my hands on you, Maki." The mermaid froze in fear, 'Maki', no one knew her name, except her clan members and the members of the Kurta clan, even the people that were auctioning her off didn't knew her name.

Maki gulped in fear, as she glanced at his face, his gentle smile and calm demeanor making her question her own fear.

Why is he so calm? Why was she freaking out when he had been nothing but nice to her? Who was he?

Maki shook her head gently, trying to focus on the situation more and not on her thoughts as she finally spoke after months.

"How... Do you know my name..?" She asked quietly, her voice hoarse from not being used from months.

"Oh, Maki... I know everything about you."

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Author's note: Okay, so... This is my first ever mini-series, so I am kind of excited to see how it will turn out! I really love the whole idea so thanks to @animerules898 for the great idea! If anyone wants to be tagged in the future chapters, then feel free to send me an ask for it! Also, my mid terms are starting from 11th September so I might be a bit slow but I will try my best to be active! Thank you!

Oh, and requests are open but please be patient with them! Have a great day!

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

I want to watch hxh the last mission ♥ 

Soooo… these are the most awesome things that I’ve seen in the new trailer! ♥

I’ve regained hope by seeing Kurapika using his chains (together with his swords). He’ll surely use them to cure himself from that syringe!

And then there’s Gon with… uhm… Jed’s eyes? .-. I can feel his bad energy and I dunno why. What happened?

Kurapika :'(

Small kurapika & kurapika

Kurapika & pairo ... phantom rouge :'(

📖🔍HxH Themed Ask Game

Feel free to reblog and do it on your own blogs!

Character

❤️ Who is your favorite hxh character?

⛵️ What hxh ship is your favorite?

⚓️ What hxh ot3 is your favorite?

🤝 Which hxh character do you think you’d be good friends with?

🏆 Who is your hxh underrated fave?

🕷 Who is your favorite phantom troupe member and why?

🌌 Who is your favorite of the zodiac 12 and why?

👑 Who is your favorite of the princes, and why?

Hunter

💥 What would your nen type be?

⚡️ If you could have any hatsu, in-universe or fan made, what would yours be?

💳 What type of hunter would you be?

🧐 If you were a hunter exam proctor, what type of challenge would you run?

💯 What would motivate you to take the hunter exam?

📚 Who would you want to be your nen mentor?

🐜 If you were turned into a chimera ant, what animal(s) do you think you’d be?

Lore

🎣 What is your favorite hxh arc?

🃏 What three GREED ISLAND cards would you take?

🗺️ What hxh locations would you want to visit?

🐳 What are you most looking forward to seeing in the manga?

🔍 Would you want to explore the Dark Continent?

Creation

👶 Do you have any hxh OCs?

💭 What is an idea for a fic/drawing you’d like to see?

🏴‍☠️ What’s your favorite hxh AU idea?

my bad kurapika drawing 😔 but since I drew it I might as well post it

Kurapika headcannons:

Kurapika with an S/O that looks like they're dancing when they're actually fighting and is bat shit 💥crazy💥NSFW included

He is extremely cautious around you when you two first meet. He knows your need for fighting is at the level where it beyond the point of Hisoka.

You meet in an alleyway.He was taking a shortcut, you were about to off a man.

Kurapika being the person he is tried to help him and you beat him badly.

Yes he did just get his ass beat but he is oddly fascinated on how you fight(think of ruby roundhouse).

You were fascinated because any normal person would have ran.

You asked him if he would like to get lunch with you and he is flabbergasted.

One second you beat him then your asking him on a date basically!

The man who you were about to off he is as confused as kurapika but then he starts calling you names and you finish the job.

After that he does get lunch to find out what the hell was going only to find out you an acquaintance to the phantom troupe and not on good terms.

You help him track down the scarlet eyes as well as help find them through underground ties.

He grows attached to you the longer your together because he realise your actually a sweet person driven mad by trauma like him.

Also doesn't want to in fear of losing you but your a badass so he give into the fact he might like you more that friends.

And he is devastated when he sees you in a state proving to be fatal.

He is begging and crying for you not to leave him and that when he confesses.

He used to unconsciously see you as an invincible being from heaven, now he realises your human and is overly protective.

He still thinks your a badass though.

His protection protocol is literally turning into your ungrateful asshole of a cat with a self destruct nuke for anyone who is within arms length of you.

However he knows not to mess with your food or whole planet is doomed.

Dates are often because a date to you both is movie night, walk in the park or the classic restaurant cafe.

NSFW:

Boobs,ass or thighs he's all of them.

Wearing a deep cut shirt while watching movies on the couch he will suck on your tits like a baby.Depending on how horny he is he might continue he might not(the latter isn't the most likely. 😏

I stand by this till my grave he will call you mommy whether or not he's the one in control or you are.

If your the dom suck his nips and he will be flustered you don't even need to tell him to beg he's already the face of the ahego searches .

He prefers it if you use yourself in him rather that an strap because he has a breeding kink .

However he will go crazy if you ride his cock while having a vibrator in him pull his hair while your at it.

He likes being manhandled because that's one of the things that remind him of when you first met.

If you were lingere he is in love again, put him in it and you will fuck yourself stupid on him and even then you will fuck like rabbits until you pass out.

Dom kurapika is gentle because he doesn't want to hurt you...

UNTIL HE GETS IN THE MOMENT

You are wearing makeup,hair gel or anything that you think will make you beautiful he will fuck you so hard infront of the mirror that if it wasn't there you would of thought he was a horse.

He will tell you how beautiful you are while your crying and your hair is all over the place.

praise he adores it.

Your walking around in the kitchen making him dinner because he's had a rough day.

And he gets a boner from the sight of you in one of his shirts strutting around with those cute panties of yours that cling so deliciously to your ass.

The house almost burned down because he decided to lie you down on the counter and make you scream with out the s.

Tight Jeans and your ass will be smacked.

His ass though...

You admitted to him the first thought that came to you when you became a couple was ' is he peggable'.

He is.

At times when he feels down and feels like hes going to waste away,you overstimulate him.

Peg him with a vibrating cock ring on his dick while pulling his hair and making him suck on your fingers.

Moans like a god who am I kidding this man will get you horny be anything he does but when he moans especially as the sub you cum evertime he moans and fuck him till he has problems walking the next day.

You both love leaving hickeys on each others thighs.

Suffocate him he will bite you and moan while eating you out or giving you head.

Hair pulling yet again.

You look at him only to find him staring back at you, tears in his eyes, makeup ruined,lingere ripped in diffeent places with his cock peeking out the top of the waistband.

When you give him head he acts as if you just fucked him with a strap the size of an elephants.

He's that sensitive.

He isn't pulling your hair because he's busy trying to keep quiet in the bath room stall of the cafe.

Kurapika will make you gag when he's pissed.Eventhough he doesn't intend to take it out on you,he does and you love it.

I mean I imagine he has a pretty red head with quite a thick shaft but in length it's average.

His cum is more sweet than bitter and your starting to wonder if it's because it's sticky and slightly thick like honey

Since ya all like kurapika headcannons so much,imma do an actual fan fiction with kurapika with smut so yea.I'll try not to botch this up.

ANYBODY KNOW WHO DID THIS?!