The Reason We Fight

Chapter 39. The Oracleum

For a little over a month, Kakume had been playing house with Arlan, their old grievances forgotten. She followed him to Red Hands meetings, but was never assigned to any actual task or mission. Arlan said that she had to take it slow on account of the bounty that was still on her, so she was basically his sidekick. It wasn't too different from her experience living with Tam, with a few exceptions. It felt like she had gone full circle. The only difference was that Arlan shared his bed with her.

It wasn't the first time he had either, of course, but it was what it was. It was familiar and somewhat comforting. Tam always used to say that familiarity breeds contempt but in her experience, it had always been the opposite. As a point of fact, she still thought of Tam rather fondly, even as he was ruthlessly chasing her to the ends of the world with the intent to kill her.

She liked Arlan well enough, and admired him a great deal too. But being with him was safe. They both knew what they were getting into, and had no delusions about it. She didn't love him, and he didn't love her. Still, sometimes when he touched and kissed her, she closed her eyes and imagined she was with Kurapika instead. No, she thought, clapping her cheeks. That way lies badness.

Grab yourself small pleasures where you can, but don't make the mistake of giving your heart to someone, Tam told her once. If you wear your heart on your sleeve, it's like to get trampled and bruised. Save yourself the pain, and keep others at arm's length.

She was making them dinner in the kitchen, feeling disheartened. She vaguely heard Arlan tell her something, but her mind was elsewhere. She was feeling increasingly restless. Pleasant and inoffensive as her current situation may be, it was going nowhere, and she was feeling totally useless. Soon enough, she is going to be known as Arlan's girlfriend, rather than a full-fledged, battle-hardened member of the Red Hands. "Hey, are you listening to me?", she heard Arlan say.

"No", she answered, cranky. "Leave me alone".

Arlan smiled his irresistible smile. Here was a guy who was certainly not oblivious to the effect he had on women. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed".

Kakume gave him a cross look. He laughed. "Are you thinking about your blond Mafia bodyguard?"

"Shut up, don't be ridiculous".

Arlan got closer, and put his arms around her from behind. "Don't think I've forgotten how you were willing to kill me for him", he whispered in her ear, in a sightly threatening voice.

She pushed him off and brandished the kitchen knife to his face. "No, Arlan. What I was thinking about, is that I'm fed up of doing nothing", she replied, angry.

"What, you don't want to be my house wife?"

Kakume said nothing. Arlan sighed loudly. "Alright, alright! I'll put you on a mission soon, I swear!"

You better...

-

"The Crimson Syndicate?", asked Kurapika.

He was speaking with an information broker through the Hunter Association, an enigmatic figure only known as Nightingale. He was a middle-aged man with his hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a flowy black and purple montsuki kimono. "A group of warlocks, or so they believe. Weird fanatics with strange ideas, might be some Nen users. They operate in the shadows, and are known to collect rare and mystical artefacts for their leader's unknown personal agenda. They say the Scarlet Eyes have mystical properties, relating to the goddess Veska".

"That's absurd", he scoffed, outraged. "They're just eyes!"

"Hey, now. Don't shoot the messenger".

He pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose in irritation. It's getting more and more complicated. Warlocks, now? It used to be only Mafia dealings... Get your act together, Kurapika, he thought.