The Fog and The Red Rain [A HunterxHunter fan fic]

Offer of a life time

After me and Kurapika chatted away for a while, I finally asked about the chains.

His nen weapon is actually equal to his trade of his own life, but then again-is it not normal- for anyone else to die at a moments notice?

I avert digging too deeply, and comment how being a hunter must be amazing.

"Are you interested?" He suddenly asks.

I shrug, "I don't know, its not that I don't think that I could handel it, I've been through endurance training for six years after all but...what would I gain? Money? I'm covered for three generations. Information? I am a connection. I don't need anything."

His brown eyes bore into mine, taking a notepad and pen out of his coat pocket he scribbled something on it with a small smile.

"Here's something if you change your mind." He handed me the note, and dropped a five for the table tip. I realize, Kurapika is actually a good person somewhere deep inside.

Three things were written;
Black sand market
The smell of burning rain
Exactly $43.5 1/2

I groan, because now I'm curious, because now I have to busy myself, because revenge do bad things to good people, because I know I don't need nor want to get stronger.

Because, in all honesty I always hear about how people grow and sharpen their skills even getting to the starting point of the exam. How you have a chance to get taught by and kill very important people.

I'm not that person anymore.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Miss Haze, you seem unfocused today." I snap out of my thoughts and glare up at Brant, never letting up my blocking with the flat of my blade and watching his rattle ever so slightly with our force.

Lately, my memories and derangement have taken an all time high. Six weeks after talking with Kurapika, and this feeling only seems to grow.

"Just a little, Brant. You still can't take me in a weaponless or armed fight, old man." I respond, looking up at my third teacher this year.

Its too windy to be outside today.

I tip the handle upwards, sending his blade skirting down in a flash thanks to his own force, and nearly land a slash on his ribs, but he steps back, and I smell it.
I stare at the drops for a moment, having the urge to eat.

"Do you know, Brant, that blood makes the best red? Did my parents tell you I wanted to be a painter when I grow up? Ah but then-" I side step his sudden attack, jutting the blade up with a twist, staring up at the night sky.

I'm slipping.

"-but then, I fell. I didn't make it, Brant. I was told I had no talent. Why was that? I had to be in this family business. This...urgh -Death trap."

I know he's speaking. I know the stars are somehow dimming. I know the smell of rain and I know I can't keep pretending much longer. I don't want to sell weapons. I want to paint peoples very souls with them. How much time has passed? I remember-

I feel someone hug me. It takes everything I could possibly dream to not bring the tip of my blade through their ears and everything in between.

I close my eyes, and let the scent of my mother calm me for a moment before I pull away and turn to her, and rest the flat of the sword on her shoulder. I tap the side lightly, so very delicately against her jugular vain. Her bright blue eyes contrast against her pale, slender face and black hair.

She's so frail.
She's crying.
She's afraid.

"You were never the same after you got bit by the Vellum fox," She sobbed, balling up her hands and trembling as the tears dropped over her hands. "You got so pale your skin looked like paper, and your blood... Your blood was ink, your teeth got all sharp and your eyes turned all these pretty colors."

I strain to hear her over her sniffling. "I can control it now, mother."

"Lies-"

"That magical beasts' abilities are now apart of me. I'm not human. We both know this." Ah, and here I was, calling myself human until now. Internally, of course. Others like me need to wear a muzzle to even walk outside.

"No no please don't say that! Please, you're just remembering too much-I- y-you don't have the right to leave." She fidgets with her sleeves and I chuckle, because she knows she's lying harder then I ever will.

"I'll become a hunter, and I'll pay back every penny. I'll get stronger, and control this side of me. I'll cut us away from all these illegal issues, and grow the company twice as big then!" I hiss, glaring down at her.

She pauses, "You'll do that, for me?" She asks, eyes wide with hope.

I smirk, turning away, feeling open, feeling true to myself.

"I never said it was for you. I'm taking everything for me." I call behind me, the moon finally high enough for me to see it as I walk back to my home to begin packing.

"You won't leave me." I hear, right next to my ear. I turn but I feel the cold blade of my own sword poke at my cheek. I'm gripping air where it once was.

My parents are very skilled in the art of taking a life, the reason the company only makes weapons. I feel my skin tingle with the memories of watching them spar, and hold back a snort.

Were, very skilled. They let themselves go and forget, but their reflexes are still top notch. I look over my shoulder despite it breaking skin and the wind cooling the slow dribble down my back.

"You don't even know what you're doing. You're not holding me back this time. I got a reason, an offer." I sneer, slapping the blade down and holding it away from me.

We always fight like this and it always ends in me sighing and calming down or leaving for a while then coming back, because I have to. I owe these people. They're my family, I can't just leave them.

Normally, that is. But I'm not sure why, maybe its gotten old, or maybe I'm just sick of what she's turned into. I'm not sure, but I feel like I have to get away. Like I'll rot here, and I'll get all sick inside -even more then I already am, that is- and I'll just fade away. I'll just fall, and crack like clay.

I'm still walking from the woman who gave me life with broken eyes and wondering if I should put a different mask on for my new life. That, and what does Black sand market mean?