Hi! Jay here!

This time I bring something new: HxH!

I have been getting back to it lately and I've written a few drabbles but here is my first official HxH fanfic! (so many exclamation marks :O)

Writing for Kurapika has been really nice to me, especially since I pretty much project onto him as an afab trans person. But like my Royai fic, this will start as a one-shot and maybe I'll make it an actual story if y'all want me to :) (,,,pls do i have ideas)

This is also pretty short I'm sorry for that ;-;

Disclaimer: I (obviously) don't own HxH and gain no profit from this fic other than writing practice and improved self-esteem

"Hey, Pairo!"

Kurapika stumbled across the woods, his tiny feet getting caught in the roots that blanketed the floor like snakes lurking around a cave. "Guess what!" He finally got to his friend, hunching over in a desperate pant.

Pairo, in turn, was more than rejoiced to be in the receiving end of apparent great news. He flicked his dark bangs out of his forehead and looked back, diverting from the very interesting koi fish that circled around a lake. Kurapika held up a hand, as if begging for a second, never quite learning that running that fast only wasted time. And then he shoved a ripped page dotted with images and words in the alphabet they so struggled to understand; the language that would be their Prince Charming and take them out of this place.

"What is that?" Pairo squinted at the letters, trying to decipher them despite the exuberant tremble that consumed Kurapika's hands.

"It's this really cool thing from the outside world," Kurapika said, "And my dad told me it could help me feel better."

Pairo sighed, not having any of his questions answered. "But what does it do?" He took the paper in his hands, and moved his lips in accordance to the description. It was nothing more than a chest binder, but for Pairo, it sounded like another high-tech apparel people outside had come up with. Actually, they even had some at the village, but those happened to be incredibly overpriced. "Woah, this looks really cool! Are you going to get one?"

"Yep!" he puffed his chest proudly, taking back the advertisement and stuffing it into his pocket. "By next week." The excitement creeped at his eyes, forcing them into a strong red that defeated the purpose of his quick breathing exercize on the way there.

Pairo turned back to the pond, that soft grin never leaving his lips. It was true that the entire village had been outwardly accepting of Kurapika, but he had heard some in between every now and then that he hoped would never get to the boy. Seeing him so thrilled to take a step further in his adventure truly lifted Pairo's heart, as it was a good sign that the negative talk was clearly not getting to him, and if it was, it was doing no damage to his identity and who he was.

Yes, Pairo had promised all those years ago to never take an injury in Kurapika's place again, but if it was either he or Kurapika who would hear the horrifying ideas that floated above some Kurta's heads, he would rather take it than risk losing his friend to a darker side of the brain.

Shoving those thoughts away, he turned to Kurapika, who swirled his finger around the water like a stick slowly brewing cotton candy, creating shallow waves that lived for a short while before disappearing into the water. Just like the judgement and prejudice that filled the village's inner circle, something Pairo had access to solemnly because of his father's connection to the Elder.

For what seemed like hours, the two sat by the lake, caught in the hypnotising show before them. Big koi, small koi, all swimming and hiding and reappearing, evoking small splashes that complimented the faint chirps resounding from the trees. Women chattered and laughed from a distance, perhaps catching up to the latest gossip while picking up berries and fruits. When their voices grew too loud, a flock of birds would leave the trees, scarring the fish away. But it wasn't long before Kurapika and Pairo's giggles ceased and the koi came back to further entertain the two.

"We should go to my house," Kurapika finally suggested, standing up and dusting off the newly-bought pants. "My dad made stew. You know it's the best in the village."

Pairo nodded joyfully, and soon they were going back through the woods and finding shortcuts that were still to be mapped in one of their haphazardly put together adventure logs, sharing funny puns and making stories that were bound to come true once they left to the outside world. Stories with kind-hearted robots and talking animals, and books and knowledge that never seemed to end. Did they know about the Kurtas? What did they think of them? Who would they meet? What would they see? Those questions tickled Kurapika night and day, leaving him in and out of daydreams and expectancy. He was so not going to spend the rest of his life secluded in this forest. Not when there's an entire planet out there dripping with possible discoveries.

And, hopefully, a doctor.

It wasn't long until they arrived at the village, where Kurapika waved at his mother who, in turn, was busy planting a few new flowers outside their windows. They were in season, but also really just another fuel to her gardening obsession. She were slowly but surely running out of spaces to plant things. That had cost Kurapika and his father their rooms, where vines crawled around the walls, accentuated by dainty red roses that added some kind of fantastic atmosphere to the cottage. While for the family it was nothing but a natural part of their life, other people—Pairo included—were astonished by the amount of time and care put into the hobby.

The second they stepped into the house, a delicious smell wrapped around the two. "Pairo is staying for dinner too, alright?" Kurapika quickly ran to his room, not having the patience to stay and have his hair ruffled by his dad, which had quickly become a tradition between the two. Once in the room, he skimmed through the scrapbooks and picked the newest one, opening it to a blank page and stamping the binder ad to it like a trophy. Pairo then took a pen from the desk and started translating the words, always reliable when it came to it. While Kurapika had a near flawless pronunciation, his vocabulary would never be even close to Pairo's. The boy had been born with a lot of space in his brain.

"You know, when we leave, you should get a job as an author," Kurapika pictured, watching in awe as the pen swiftly moved to write down the main ideas. Pairo hummed in response, as that had been an aspiration for him ever since he first picked up a pen.

"I'll document your adventures," he said, the words painting Kurapika's cheek this pretty shade of red. "That way, we'll be invincible."

'Invincible.' That sounded nice. Pairo shut the now complete book, adding the word to the cover with a shimmery white pen. No matter what others say, they will always be invincible.

It was at around eight that the two were called to dinner, the room packed with the warmth of home-cooked stew; with that smell that would later say "childhood." Kurapika's father carefully poured a fair amount into each bowl, then handed them out. Once the four had seated, the chatting began. It was a strange brew of complaints and gossip and laughs and storytelling, with a few scolds sprinkled on top. Kurapika and table manners were not a very nice couple. He would often get caught chucking large amounts of food into his mouth, or raising his knee until it levelled with his chin, not to mention the loud voice and spills and overall mess. Most of the time, his parents would let it slip. But not always, and whenever they got mad, they would burst into these two raging wolves.

Although not over table manners. Usually over schoolwork or frog-hunting after curfew.

"Pairo and I just finished another notebook," Kurapika said, shooting out a few vegetables. "Can we get a new one?"

His mother looked away, deep in though. "Wasn't that one your fifth?"

"Seventh," Pairo corrected.

It seemed to silence the table. On one end, two kids watched expectantly. From the other, they were met with blank stares. They were truly dedicated to leaving the village; it wasn't just a sudden obsession that would fade away with time. Seven notebooks filled to the brim with research and tales was past a mere phase. Kurapika's parents had debated whether to keep it going or put out the fire. It could be dangerous. But it could also be the start of something new. What if they do leave? And what if they don't come back? And what if other people follow them out? That would mean they would eventually become part of the outside world. And they would have to learn to deal with the consequences. And that would take time and effort and possibly even lives.

"We'll think about it," his father finally breathed before standing up and taking his bowl to the kitchen. The other three followed suit, and eventually parted ways.

Kurapika made his way to his bedroom, Pairo following closely behind.

"Would you like to stay for the night?"

Of course he did. He aways did. It wouldn't be a full week if they didn't have another sudden sleepover. And their parents were used to it. If Pairo didn't show up until curfew he would most definitely be at Kurapika's house, and vice-versa. It was a natural thing, they were like two koi fins, connected by this complex but simple concept of friendship.

Or better yet, brotherhood.

. . .

"Hey, we're here," a soft voice echoes.

Kurapika blinks his eyes open, lifting his head to look out the window. He murmurs a few incomprehensible words, and soon they're out of the airship and inside the airport, Leorio leading the way around shop owners and travellers and mothers and all sorts of different sounds emerging from the airport like smoke leaving a kettle. They settle on a nearby bench, hoping some overpriced ice-cream will scare away the warmth crawling onto their skin.

Spoiler: it's no use.

"They'll arrive anytime now," Leorio says, glancing at his watch. It had been a long enough trip for them, but for sure it was not comparable to the one the two boys were challenging. The city has seen countless reunions—-both good and not so good—-and seemed to be the perfect location, despite being pretty distant from all of their starting points.

Kurapika discards his now empty ice-cream cup and rests his head on Leorio's shoulder, who in turn had pulls out his phone. There are several texts from Gon, who felt the need to document his entire trip. The two stifle a laugh, looking through the blurry selfies and all-caps updates. He had boarded three days ago. He would arrive in no time.

"Apparently there's a koi fish pond now." Leorio turns off his phone with a click, topping Kurapika's head with his own. He loved making it clear that he was, in fact, doubled in height. It was just a little game he played with everyone he met. "Do you want to check that out?"

Kurapika closes his eyes, still drowsy from the recent nap. "Not now," he says. "We'll go when they arrive." His words were jumbled into a big snowball, rolling out of his tongue without much care. His accent—-something he constantly succeeded to conceal—-tingled Leorio's ears, being perfect evidence to Kurapika's rare but there dismissal of formalities and perfection. It wasn't much: Kurapika had spent enough time in the outside world. But it was just this extra freckle that dotted his speech when it was just the two of them, and it was an affirmation that they were at last in somewhat privacy; in a situation where no one would be bothered by a slightly more intimate connection between the two.

In all actuality, nothing was completely established in their relationship. It was harder and harder to refer to each other. Good friend, best friend, partner, boyfriend—-all of these were correct but not correct at the same time. Sure, they talked about girls (and boys) together quite often, and Kurapika had been sent to a few blind dates with nurses. But they had also gone to bed together, and shared more than a few kisses. That lack of labels, however confusing, was also quite comforting. It gave them freedom to roam around, yet a place to call home when things didn't go as planned.

The past year had its ups and downs. The eyes had all been recovered, which threw Kurapika into a deep well of worthlessness and no concern for the future. The Spiders were also gone. There was nothing left for him to do in this world.

It was time to move on.

Every night was accompanied by seas, no, oceans of tears. It was suffocating. The feeling of loneliness creeped into his bed and pierced his heart with sharp claws of defeat. He felt like just another useless koi fish swimming foolishly around a pond, waiting to take a bait and leave for good. He wondered why the bait was taking so long to sink into the water. Might as well go get it himself.

What was the end of the tunnel for him was the day Leorio showed up at his front door, eyes wide with despair. Without second thought, Kurapika took him inside and they both collapsed onto a corner, tears peppering the floor while a Kurta melody hopelessly escaped Kurapika's lips. "She was five," Leorio had muttered. "She was five."

"It's not your fault."

"That's not what her brother said."

"It's not your fault." Kurapika tightened his grasp, burrying his nose in those stubby black locks. His lip quivered. His shoulders shook. Not necessarily because he was sad; but because Leorio was losing control of himself and just the image of him coming apart over one of inevitably many patients haunted Kurapika's thoughts.

That was when they made the mutual, silent decision to stick together. This was adulthood. This was what they were about to face on a much regular basis. A concept so simple, yet something they had never thought through. The Dark Continent expedition had awakened a selfishness none of them could comprehend; what was supposed to be a team effort ended in a free-for-all brawl where you watched your back and your back only, and in that mess they had misplaced their empathy and solidarity for each other. But this was different. Leorio had laid himself bare. He was broken. So was Kurapika. They weren't alone. They weren't one of a kind. They understood each other.

And that was enough.

They can't exactly pin-point what caused Leorio to call Gon and Killua and schedule such a sudden meeting. It was just an idea that hit him during lunch one day. They were sitting at a small riverside restaurant, listening to those soft guitar tunes and watching a pigeon nip at crumbs. Maybe it was the way a few more pidgeons joined it soon after, maybe it was the way the table next to them erupted in glee when a couple arrived and started greeting everyone with cheek-ripping smiles and strong handshakes. But that was not the point, because here they were, after months of emails and schedules and organising in general.

"Look."

Kurapika pulls his head away, snapping awake as Leorio frantically waves at the crowd.

Gon sees him first, possibly using his nose to his advantage. In seconds, he's tugging at Killua's hoodie, and soon the four of them clash, Gon quickly diving into Leorio's arms while Kurapika takes Killua in an equally strong embrace, something that was not in his original plans but ended up being irresistible at that particular instant. In those first moments, there were no words. The crowd shuffling around the platform seemed more and more distant. They weren't important. For now, they were taking in the changes and what stayed the same; like how Killua had grown bulkier and Kurapika, frailer. And how Gon's lack of working out had resulted in this pair of chubby arms that would for sure host the warmest of cuddles.

Then came the tears, soft at first, then stronger and stronger on some ends. Particularly on Leorio's. He was just a complete and utter mess, which was suddenly very funny for the other three who joyfully brushed at their eyelids. "You're still just a big baby," Killua joked, pocketing his hands. Gon debated whether to scold him or not, but that was the least of his priorities right now.

What was needed now was giggles, not troubles. They were reunited at last, but every second was precious. Every single one of them had a different idea of how long this would last. Hours? Days? Months?

Killua found himself lost in thought, his gaze slowly drifting from Gon to Kurapika to Leorio to Gon again. His ears had completely blocked out the conversation, leaving nothing but the sweet presence of good friends and good people.

A/N: If I do continue this fic, I'm thinking I'll start the next chapter with, for example, Killua's past, and the next with Gon's, but that's just an idea ahah. I just love how Togashi gives us just enough of info about their past and I really want to write for everyone ahhhhhhh