Wait for me, okay? [LeoPika] (REWRITING PHASE)

Chapter 10: Auction (Part 2)

It was dark. 

Well, of course it was. 

It smelled sort of odd too. The basement was surprisingly intact, except from a few burst pipes that had been exhausted of the water they held before being hit. 

The steps he took felt heavy. 

There were slow claps of applause, similar to what Illumi had done, but more genuine this time.

"That didn't take you long, did it, Chain User?" Kurapika shuddered at the smile that could be heard in his voice. There was indeed, also a smile on his face.

"No," Kurapika paused as he turned. "It didn't."

He lay eyes on a man who stood several inches taller than him, with an ornamented open trench coat and hair heavily slicked back. He had his hands together, poised in front of his chest as he subsided the applause. The gentle smile remained.

"I didn't expect you to be here, you know, you weren't the ta-"

Kurapika swung his leg at his head. "I don't have time to talk."

Chrollo didn't lose the smile, but blocked the kick aimed at his temple with his arm with an oddly satisfying crack. Satisfying to Kurapika, at least.

"I see. Let's not waste any time, then." 

Chrollo held the conjured book, leaped backwards to create distance, seemingly unfazed.

The image of his oppent blurred in and out of focus. Kurapika's head began to spin again.

.

.

.

He was out of breath. His stamina was never an issue, but why now? Why was he struggling now?Kurapika brought a bloody sleeve to his forehead. His hair began sticking to his face, and it was annoying him. 

There was a strike to his left, which he dodged just about, but itk still grazed his ribs, landing a bloody blow. Kurapika let out a low hiss of pain.

"I respect your will, Chain User," Chrollo withdrew his nen strike, but still had it quite ready. "Tell me, what is it that keeps you going? You have been worn out long ago, I assume."

He was right. Kurapika had been staring at the thick splashes of blood mixed with sewage water on the ground, staring at a distorted reflection of a blonde with a battered face and irises an iridescent scarlet colour.

What was it? What was he even fighting for? He didn't even know how he got here. 

His limbs ached. It hurt, and he felt numb but he could still move and-

He shook his head free of useless and time-consuming thoughts. He wiped a sweaty palm against the thighs of his suit-pants, only to feel a small prick into his leg as his hand drifted over it. He blinked the haze away from his eyes and looked down, eyeing the thin length of metal wedged in his skin. 

There was a low whistle from his said opponent. He had the worst shit-eating grin on his face and cocked his head to the side. "You don't look like you take drugs in your spare time, do you?" It hit Kurapika like a brick. He had been drugged. His mind travelled back to his encounter with Illumi and was reminded of the lethal flicks of metal that had flitted by during their brief encounter. When had he been struck..?

Kurapika clicked his tongue and pulled the length of metal from his leg; a faint trail of blood followed. A throbbing headache also came soon after; blood rushed to his temples and pulsated painfully there. Painful pricks pooled behind his eyes and he desperately tried to blink them away. Everything felt loud. His opponent was seemingly soundlessly mouthing words and scenes in front of him blurred in and out of focus again. 

There was a loud thump and Kurapika felt the sticky dampness of the asphalt-flooring beneath him. There was the annoying sound of slow applause again, but this time accompanied by terrified whimpers and small pleads of help. 

Crack.

Kurapika glanced at his outstretched arm. He felt the sole of a shoe, and the top piece of pencil-heels dig into his arm. It buried into his skin with a squelching sound and the gritty scatching sound of what was presumbly his own bone matter grinded into bits under the shoe. 

The terrified whimpers and weak pleads of help became the sound he heard the clearest. He blinked hot tears away from his eyes, and focused. It was a man. An innocent citizen, with a gaping hole in his chest, in sync with the agonising squeezing in Kurapika's own chest. 

There was a fluttering sound, of a deck of cards, and a drawling voice and the popping sound of blown-bubblegum accompanied it. "Illumi, dear, your illusionary skills are quite something." The voice became clearer as did the approaching click-clacking of heels. 

Illumi gave a low hum of amusement and Kurapika felt the Zoldyck's cold breath against his cheek as the latter bent down. There was a prod to his face. "Shouldn't he be dead, by now? His little chain should do it on its own, so no need to get messy, Hisoka."

Kurapika followed the trail of his index finger, and looked at the innocent man again. Illusion? Was this man not Chrollo that he was fighting? If he were to kill someone who was not a Spider, he would also...

..........................

Fuck it.

Kurapika swore, and tore the man's heart of his chest, ears met with a piercing scream and the gargling of blood. On cue, a sudden tightness engulfed the heavy ache in his chest, forcing bile and thick, clotting blood up his windpipe.

He raised his shattered arm with the last remaining strength he had, and there was a zipp sound, as his chains sliced across sensitive flesh one more time.

Two thumps we heard at either side of him and the mocking words of Hisoka and Illumi were shushed immediately. Were they dead? Definitely not, but having to hear their voices in his last moments annoyed Kurapika too much. 

There was nothing but the dripping of sewage water from the pipes above, now. No screams, no mocking voices. Kurapika used his lesser-injured left arm, and clutched the tear in his chest. It was smooth and warm. Only for a split second, then it felt sticky and cold. Nothing as warm as embrace: soft, comforting embrace that would never get cold. 

He pressed the back of his head into the asphalt floor, the uneven surface and fine debris pressing blood into his scalp and shut his eyes tight. And he laughed. With every struggling inhale and exhale as he did so, brought up more blood through his windpipe and splutter out his mouth. He licked his lips free of internal residue the best he could. The skin on his mouth stung as his tongue brushed over it and he failed to recall exactly when he'd been hit in the face hard enough to bust a lip. He thought dying people had their lives flash before their eyes, not sudden memory loss. 

Bastards...

Kurapika felt weird and pathetic that his last words were curses. Curses and blames and that he was still pointing fingers at people for his own mistakes since he couldn't do anything right. Right? Had he ever done anything right? Did anyone appreciate anything he did? Did no life flash before his eyes since he hadn't lived one worth living?

He laughed again but it came out like a gargling cough and thick blood pooled just behind his uvula. He made no effort to spit it out anymore.

Fuck.

Leorio.

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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Sayonara さようなら ♥

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【 ༒Kusari༒ 】 ♥き価虞 ♥

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