Kurapika x Reader One-Shot Collection

Cemetery Walks Part One

The cold misty air surrounds me as I walk on the concrete sidewalk. The concrete is cracked from years of use. I pass the giant wrought iron fence and continue to walk down the paths of this place that is starting to feel like home.

I take a look around. A couple is crying in front of a tombstone. The woman places a fresh bouquet of flowers in front of the grave. To my left, a man is shoveling dirt into a new gravesite, giving the air an earthy scent.

I continue to walk while paying attention to my surroundings. I'm a frequent visitor here, yet I don't know exactly who it is I'm looking for. Maybe I'm a taphophile. I do find the art of this cemetery beautiful. I am also interested in its history.

I sit down on one of the benches and close my eyes. I can hear people sobbing, birds chirping, and footsteps. When I open my eyes again, I see a man I've never seen before walking past me. He doesn't look my way. His face is full of determination.

My eyes stay focused on this mysterious man. When he finally reaches his destination, he kneels in front of a massive gravesite. This site must have at least a hundred bodies buried there.

He bows his head and folds his hands. I feel sad for this stranger. Not that I don't feel sad for all of the other visitors, he just captivates me. Like he has a story. A story I'm determined to know.

He stays in the same position for an hour. I can't help but stare. I feel like walking over to him and giving him a hug. But...why? We've never met.

When he is finished praying, he slowly stands up. He spends another ten minutes looking at the gravesite. He walks away with his head down.

When he is out of view, I run over to the gravesite where he was praying. I look up to read the name on the monument.

KURTA

I quickly become obsessed. I walk up and down the paths of the memorial. I counted one hundred and twenty-eight tombstones. I read the dates. They all share the same date of death with the exception of one. This particular tombstone reads:

KURAPIKA
APRIL 4, 1982 -

The owner of this tombstone is still alive. Could it be him?

I wait for him the next day. He doesn't show up. I look forward to the day after that. Still no sign of him. There is a strange sensation that runs through me. Will I ever see him again?

Just when I begin to lose hope, he appears. This time, he is carrying a shovel over his shoulder. With his other arm, he is holding two glass containers.
He carefully places each container on the ground. After praying, he picks up his shovel and starts to dig a hole in the dirt. He wipes his brow when he is finished burying the glass containers. What were in them? And why did he bury them here?

I'm left with more questions when he leaves this time. I know I shouldn't do this, but I dig up the glass containers. My jaw drops as soon as I see them. Inside each container was a pretty scarlet-colored eye. I've never seen such a beautiful color.

What did they mean to him?

Days pass and I continue to take my daily walks through the cemetery. My head is down so I don't see the person walking in the opposite direction of me. We bump into each other.

"Watch where you're going!"

I look up to see who is shouting at me. It's him!

"I...I'm sorry. I promise to be more careful."
"It's fine...have a nice day," he says before walking away.

I find my usual bench and sit to watch him. His melancholy expression makes my heart ache. I want to know his story. I want to know him.

Instead of walking toward the exit when he finished with his visit, he walked over to sit next to me.