One Of Our Own [Kurapika x Reader]

0.2

︵︵☾✩☽︵︵
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Following Satotz proved to be challenging.

Fog overcame my vision, making me lose sight of him now and then. The muddy ground was difficult to run and find balance on, to the point that I've almost fallen right into 44's arms. That would've been horrible.

I focused all of my senses on the task at hand, forgetting about striking up a conversation with Kurapika. It could be that waiting is a better idea than blindly diving in.

I could spend the rest of this phase pondering methods of starting a natural conversation that won't make it seem like I'm prying for information.

I bit my lip, deep in thought. I hear Gon announce that he and Killua are heading to the front; this could be my chance. Kurapika is left with only Leorio. I change the steady pattern of my footsteps and slow down a small amount, finding myself approximately ten feet from the two.

As I'm building up the courage to introduce myself, bloodlust seeps through the clearing. Footsteps cease behind me, but I run a short distance before once again slowing down.

Now it shouldn't seem odd for a presence to disappear.

I focus on my Zetsu as I steadily jog back to the clearing, careful to keep the volume of my treads to a minimum.

"Hunters require prey. So why don't I play the examiner?"

My teeth begin to clench. Accompanied by 44 here acting all strange, the chance of survival rapidly diminishes. A series of yells ring out, followed by a moment of silence.

Approaching the clearing, Kurapika and the other man come to view, with 44 on his way towards them. With my body concealed behind the trunk of a tree, I take in the unfolding situation.

If Kurapika stays, he will die.

A familiar dull pain starts throbbing in my palms, my thoughts rapidly going over various scenarios, deducing which present the best outcome.

"Now, run!"

I silently follow Kurapika's trajectory, deciding it'd be best to assure his safety. He notices Leorio returning to 44 and turns sharply on his heel.

"Wait!" Without thinking, I whisper-yell. Brown eyes dart towards the sound, and suddenly I feel naked. How do I continue this?

"Who are you?" The blond analyzes my semblance, as though he were assessing my strength. Impressive, he wastes no time. His knees bend slightly; his arms grab a pair of sticks.

"I'm not a threat." I begin, attempting a reassuring-sounding voice. He keeps his stance, not a drop of slackening in his appearance.

"Do not go after your friend; I sense he'll be fine." Uncertainty passes through his gaze, and I force out a smile.