Not (Really) Alone

After successfully obtaining all of the scarlet eyes Kurapika suddenly felt he lost his purpose and has refused to pursue the spiders. Lost and all alone, he meets a hunter that reminds him of his friends.

Alternate future events with the scenario: "Kurapika and a 'mysterious' (and eccentric) hunter."

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Kurapika stared at the containers of the scarlet eyes. He had long thought of burying them to their land but he was unable to gather the strength and courage to step to the place he once called home.

There is nothing left for him, no home to return to, and no family to love. It is of utmost importance for him to finally bring his clan home and return them to where they belong. Yet the images of eyeless corpses kept on haunting him. Had he made the wrong choice? Was it wrong to desire revenge and seek justice for the fallen? His thoughts had kept on running endlessly and gave him sleepless nights. Should he finish what he started for his clan, or most likely for himself, what would be left for him to do? He abandoned so many for the sake of revenge. He had turned his back on his friends. And worst of all, he stained his hands with blood all in the name of the Kurta.

Slowly he clutched his hands and whispered a prayer for his clan. Tomorrow he promised to give them peace. He made all the preparations needed to safely transport the eyes to its final resting place.

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Even after everything that had been done Kurapika was left with feelings of loneliness. Achieving his dream should give him a sense of accomplishment or peace, but neither of it would describe the pain that he felt. Despite it he simply dismissed the feeling as stress.

His mobile phone was relentlessly vibrating inside his coat pocket. Frowning in annoyance he took it and placed the device to a nearby table. The calls had surely come from Leorio and he didn't even need to glimpse at the caller ID to make sure. He had been a worried wreck after hearing that Kurapika finally buried the scarlet eyes.

He turned off his phone leaving it behind as he decided to go out for a walk.

The city's streets were filled with people that appeared to be rushing into every corner looking busy about something they consider important. He kept on walking aimlessly and paid no attention to the awful smell of the air polluted by car smoke.

From a nearby park on the opposite street he heard a commotion. People had gathered around and he failed to see whatever is occurring. Slowly he walked away deciding to ignore the low mumbling.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" a loud shout broke out from the mumbling crowd silencing them.

The Kurta stopped abruptly from curiosity more than surprise. His gaze went through the crowd finding a small opening to lead him to see an image of a tall, well dressed man towering a short dark haired stranger.

The stranger spoke with an obvious yet slight dialect, "I keep tellin' ya this kid didn't steal your money." The stranger held a young boy protectively shielding him from the man's sharp, deadly glare.

Pissed, the man stepped forward and grabbed the stranger's collar roughly pulling him up almost separating his feet from the ground. "This eyes don't lie punk, if you're gonna side with that squirt why don't YOU give back my money," he hissed spitting some of his saliva in the process.

The stranger visibly flinched mostly because of the saliva that flew into his face. "I can't give ya money that wasn't taken from ya," she choked. "Can't breathe..."