Still Doll

An Unexpected Apology

Kuroro had to bite his lip to stop himself from chuckling.

This had to be the longest ten minutes of his life. He'd never felt this excited and amused. It was so childish, but he simply couldn't stop himself. Perhaps Kurapika was right— about him being a perverted psychopath that was. Well, that was fine, it didn't matter. After all, he was merely doing what he wanted to do.

Another minute later after he had stealthily made his way into the bathroom to replace Kurapika's clothes with his own, Kuroro heard the small door creak open, and he turned to take a good look at the person who emerged from it.

"I don't remember agreeing to this in our deal," Kurapka's hair was wet, face blushing hard, and his eyes were glaring directly at Kuroro. The shirt was so loose on him that one of its sleeves slightly slipped down his shoulder, revealing his pale collar bone. Kuroro had to admit; he liked the view.

"What? I can't have any special service tonight?"

"Well— I don't remember saying yes to your special order either."

"Come on, can't you just go with the flow for once?"

"I've been going with the flow from the very start. What more do you want from me?"

"A lot more," Kuroro said, his eyes fixed on Kurapika's. "Let me remind you that I just spent five billion grand on a pair of your clan's lifeless eyes. I'm just—" the rest of his sentence cut short for Kurapika had already poised to attack him with a nen-powered punch.

It was fast, but not quick enough to come in contact with his target, since the man was no longer in front of him.

It was as if Kuroro had evaporated into thin air. His existence neatly disappeared, with no trace left behind. Teleportation— the man's favorite tactic. The jerk was admittedly good at wielding his abilities, and Kurapika was forced to heighten his senses to the maximum.

His blood was boiling. The anger now raging inside him was overflowing, he felt as if he would burst to death if he couldn't land at least a single punch on Kuroro's face.

Taking deep breaths didn't do Kurapika any good, Kuroro's effective technique only worsened his wrath for it was just proving how much stronger the man was compared to him.

'Damn it— where is he!?' Kurapika's rage was slightly clouding his perception, but he couldn't help it. His grudge against the Ryodan, (especially against its head), wasn't something he could handle or control at will (and he preferred it that way).

However, he had to work things out. Kurapika didn't want to lose against Kuroro without putting up a fight. Yes, he knew he would lose, but it wasn't about winning or losing. That man had to be taught a lesson, and it would be a great pleasure if Kurapika himself could teach Kuroro that. If this would result in another rape, then so be it. He didn't care anymore.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, his aura evenly flowing throughout his entire body. The Chain Jail materialized on his right hand, its sound rattled and echoed loudly throughout the room.

He conjured his Dowsing Chain in hopes that it would help. Slowly he turned around, trying to find Kuroro's presence.

The silence was deafening. It was hollow, empty, and dangerous. But Kurapika wasn't intimidated. He knew Kuroro would appear sooner or later, and he would have no choice but to fight him face to face.

Until—

'Behind—!' Kurapika's eyes snapped open and he spun on his heels, his arms wildly swung with purpose of both offense and defense.