A/N: Tsk! Gomennasai my dearest readers for abandoning you for the past few months. My summer vacation had just killed me with its new fandoms and its promise of a beach and swimming and ocean, leaving me out of the way to write anything for ALH even though I promise myself I would.

I was going through my to-write list when I found Chapter 32 in its deepest recesses. ohdeargodI'msosorry.

(I probably experimented with at least three writing styles in this chapter.) All I can offer for hospitality is this chapter, for the meantime (especially its ending. haha. that was fun to write!), and all my "thank yous" for sticking with me all this time. ALH is now 2 years old. Wow. And it's still not done.

[[and will stay undone for a while longer 1.) there are new fandoms in my head, and 2.) because the longer I think of the ending the stupider it sounds. tsk!]]

/this chapter probably has typos or errors of the sort because I haven't managed to do a run-check. tsk. thank you.

Constructive criticism is well appreciated, as well as reviews with cookies or pizza on them. because I'm hungry. damnnnn.

OWC: 4,854 words

Disclaimer: HxH is Yoshihiro Togashi's.

Chapter 32:

And the days go on

Let's try this again;

Manipulation

Killua pulled Gon's wrist roughly, earning a groan from the other kid as he was dragged all over on the shiny linoleum floors of the building. "Killua, what are you doing?" Gon protested, trying his best to stand his ground but utterly failing. "We should stay here! Do you actually plan on leaving them behind?"

Killua sighed, his eyes closing, hand on his forehead, sounding like he was trying to relieve himself from the stress of that very moment. Gon looked at him with pleading eyes, like the chocolate in his irises were about to melt, mirroring the expression they had left Akane with. But Killua remained unfazed. When his eyelids fluttered open, his dark, dark blue eyes were frozen over with a layer of ice. Gon flinched, taking a step back from his friend.

"No, Gon. We're leaving." Then, pausing for a while, he let go of Gon's wrist. "Or rather, if you're not, then I'm leaving. I've done all I could. She didn't train for nothing, right? I'm done." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm done. I'm letting her be. That's for the better, anyway."

Reinforcement

Bright mornings and the chittering of birds. She sat on a woven mat, laid across the green grass that grew freely on the cold, damp, fertile soil. The sky was the most beautiful shade of blue; and white, cottony cumulous clouds were splattered across it. A cool breeze from the high tops of the mountain that still smelled of pine and waterfalls and wildflowers blew past her, and immediately she was calmed.

Daddy! She would call, and her voice was high-pitched and still very much child-like. She would have a smile plastered upon her face, blue eyes shaded with brown locks, curled but they would reach her waist. Her dress was white, ballooning out by her waist, reaching her knees. A grin plastered on her lips, she would pull at the wrist of the older man and spin him in the open field.

We'll look for butterflies and pick flowers for Mommy, is that okay? Exuberant and full of life. The little girl would pull her father over and bring him into the woods, deeper, darker. Only she knew the path and it scared him, at some point, but he let her guide the way. There are rosebushes over there, daddy, doesn't Mommy love roses? She would giggle and run faster, leaving the older man to chase after her. There's blue and yellow and orange; and then red and pink and white. White roses are beautiful, daddy, aren't they?

And then he would lose sight of her and there would be a shot; the next moment, he stood before two gravestones, one with her name and the other, of her mother. White roses in front of each and they looked beautiful, so so beautiful…

He snapped his eyes open and heard the click of the door shutting, the yellow-haired girl under his wing. He took a sip of his coffee. He would make no errant mistakes this time.

Transformation

"Listen. Nen is the ability to manipulate the vital energy—aura—that naturally comes out of the body. Everyone actually projects small amounts of this vital energy, but it's only a little uncontrollable leak, that's all."

Do you think we would be able to save them with this?

"The technique used to regulate it is Ten. It's basic protection for any nen-user. When it's well-applied, it can even be used as a bullet-proof shield of some sort."

We won't be able to save everyone, but we can do the best that we can.

"Zetsu. That's the technique used to erase the traces of your presence. Highly effective in battle."

I wonder how Akane is doing, Killua.

"Ren is the technique used to make an aura rise in special, exceptional situations. It's basic power-up, to keep it short."

She's probably doing perfectly well.

"All of this is achieved by using merely the energy that naturally comes out of the human body. This can mean good, or bad."

We started to walk forward.

"If a bad spirit—or aura—would attack a defenceless man, it's not far from impossible that the unlucky man could be killed with only the aura."

Start the long journey, one step in front of the other.

"The only way to protect his body from the users of this Nen—is the nen within ourselves, to protect ourselves with Ten."

Midnight blue eyes, chocolate brown. Perhaps we would be able to make a difference.

"We repel the opposite aura with our own aura. Otherwise… the body would be split into shreds."

We start with ourselves. We improve ourselves. We see what we can do.

"This is Nen. A secret yet powerful force that is hidden in everybody. But only a few are able to control this, much less master. That's why they're called 'Nen-users': They're special. Genius. Gifted."

This isn't so bad.

"There are two ways in opening up your shoukos—the openings in your bodies which contain the aura. You can take it slowly, like I'm doing with Zushi. He mastered Ten in six gruelling months."

We're running out of time, but we'll do our best.

"That won't work! We only have until midnight, and we have to break through Hisoka's nen wall!"

These are the things that will help us grow.

"Then there's only one way—we'll forcibly open your shoukos."

There's no turning back.

Emission

"Now, Hatsu, girl, is your own personal expression of nen. Think of it as an abstract painting if you were a painter—Akane, are you listening?"

Akane blinked, tearing her eyes away from the funny shapes she saw in the chocolate syrup floating atop her hot cocoa for that cold night. "Oh? Uh, yeah. Something sounding like sneeze. Personal expression."

"Right," her sensei said sarcastically, before punching her hard on the shoulder. "Listen up. Just because it's a Friday night doesn't mean there's no training for you. If you're undergoing probationary training, you have to keep going at it because there is a chance that you might lose how far you've been going."

"Ow, ow, ow…" Akane chanted as she rubbed her shoulder, mug of cocoa cooling on the glass table. "Fine, fine. Please continue with the discussion, I will pay utmost attention, sensei."

Her sensei stared at her quizzically. Had he actually grown so close to the girl that he was letting her go off acting just like that? Or was it because of her eyes—how close, how close the shade was of Aika's? "Remind me what I said about Hatsu earlier, I forgot."

"Personal expression of nen, something abstract painting something," Akane struggled to explain, staring blankly at her teacher.

Her sensei nodded. So she was listening, if only a good 50% of her. "Yes. Hatsu, the use and how it is used,is different to every person. Listen to this, because Hatsu is a bigger deal than anything you've learned from me. It's greater than the sum of everything you've learned for me." She perked up, putting her mug down again—she had to keep her attention, and the warmth in that mug was just so distracting. "Basically, nen-users—which include you now, by the way—can be categorized into six kinds. Like cattle, yes, like cattle." She shot him an odd glance. "You can either be an Enhancer, Kyōkakei. Or an Emitter, Hōshutsukei. Or Manipulator, Sōsakei. Conjurer, Gugenkakei. Transmuter, Henkakei. Or, if you're special, then a Specialist: Tokushitsukei."

Akane's eyes were already dead bored when he turned to her once more. That mug—that special white mug with a frog on it—was being embraced by her hands again, she couldn't seem to let go of it. "And so why am I learning these technical terms? Kei kei kei."

"Because you are one of those six," her master told her grimly.

Akane blinked. "How do I know which one of those, then? I mean, that's a hefty lot of skills. Six."

"You try the water test," he said blankly. He walked toward the light switch by the wall and turned it on, flooding the dark room—that used to be illuminated by merely a single yellowish lamp near the corner where Akane was—with a bright white light. Akane halfway closed her eyes as she winced with the sudden brightness that took her quite a time to get used to. Then, he picked up one of the wine glasses from the drying rack near the kitchen, filled it with tap water, and only then walked to Akane. She had put down the mug—thank goodness—and crouched over, blanket spilling over her shoulders, to look at the water-filled glass. It was filled to the brim. Then, her sensei placed this singular leaf he plucked from the indoor plant.

She pulled the blanket closer to her skin. "I hope this test doesn't involve merely staring at the glass, 'cause I think nothing's happening. Which is pretty sad for me, isn't it?" Sarcasm laced her tone and she had a smirk on her face.

"Well, don't be scared then," he prodded, tapping her shoulder. "You cup your hands around the glass and perform Ren. The reaction will tell me what your ability is."

She struggled to sit up. She stared at her hands. Then, looking disgustingly at the cup, not exactly trusting her master, she frowned. "No, you do it first."

"Okay," he said, his tone sounding as if he didn't have a care in the world. His calloused hands made their way around the cup, and then his body poured over with Ren. Akane watched the cup curiously, but then her left eyebrow slowly started to raise when she didn't see anything change. He stayed there for about a minute, concentrating, and then stopped.

She stared at him. "I can't see if anything happened."

"You don't see," he said with closed eyes and a smile. He put the leaf down on the glass coffee table. He took the wine glass by its neck and handed it to her. "Here, taste it. I'll bet you your dinner tomorrow it tastes better than your cocoa."

"Dinner? That's—that's a hefty bet. You're pretty confident." She knew how her sensei loved to cook delicious food for dinner during weekends just for the heck of it. She took the glass gingerly and brought it to her lips. Her eyes widened. She brought it away from her face and placed it beside her mug. A slight frown went to her lips as she admitted: "Well, damn."

Her master had a knowing look on his face as he took the wine glass away to rinse it and refill it with water. He placed the leaf again on top of the water. "Well? Do it yourself now."

"Okaaaay," she said, letting the blanket fall loose. She cupped with shivering hands the glass, and she closed her eyes as she performed Ren. She didn't want to see what she was doing. She counted up to sixty in her head as she did Ren, then when she was finished, she immediately pulled her hands under the blanket and cowered. "What did I do?"

Her master was staring at the glass. "What do you see?"

"I see…" she started, blinking. She wasn't quite sure if it was the light or she did that herself, and it was real. "I think… I think the color of the water—I think it's… murkier? Darker?"

Her master nodded. "It turned darker with a shade of purple, yes," he said. "That says everything. Now we know your Hatsu. You will begin your specialised training tomorrow. Go to bed," he said, taking the glass and turning off the lights again.

"Wait—wait! You didn't tell me what my Hatsu is! It changed color? So what?" Akane asked.

"You are Hōshutsukei," he said idly, leaving the wineglass in the sink. "You remember that. No dinner for you, too. Go to sleep."

Akane sat there, dumbstruck. As her master slowly closed the door to his room, she called out to him, almost in a half-shriek, panicking in the half-darkness state she was in: "But Sensei, what does an Emitter do?!"

Materialization

The glass was placed back on the stone, looking different from how it was much earlier. His master smiled—smiled?—and a glint in his eyes as he looked at his apprentice.

"It would seem that you are of the Materialization type. You can materialize the normally shapeless aura of your body into a solid object."

His eyes narrowed slightly, glare boring deep into the glass. "I wanted to be of the Manipulation class."

"That is not for you to decide." His master looked at him. "We will practice that from now on."

x x x

It was the darkness that embraced Kurapika from the very start. Never was it the burning of the flames, the pungent smoke, and the headache that throbbed against his skull. It was the darkness, as he ran and ran, away. Farther. So far until he could not turn back.

"Strength." His voice was calm and assured and he talked to the silence. "The strength that can banish all the wandering spirits into the deepest level of hell."

His hands curled around an invisible substance. He did not know why, or where they came from. All he knew was that chains clinked together around his fingers, cold against his burning flesh. They sounded like an elegy.

x x x

When he closed his eyes, hungry for sleep, he would open them to a nightmare. He would find himself bound in a spider web, its silky strands around his body, looking fragile and yet so sharp. He would bleed in the parts where the web would dig into his skin.

And then he would wake up. He would wake up feeling vulnerable and chased down to the corners of his fears, until he felt them. The chains, appearing from his right hand, and then, slowly, tangled out to defend him. He would be able to sniff out the sharp scent of iron, and it would linger in his tongue. In his senses.

And then he would curl up again. He would feel the steel on his skin and he would fall back into a restless, dreamless sleep, where he was free of spider-webs, but not of pitch-black darkness.

x x x

"Why a chain?"

"So that I can punish and drag to hell those monsters that still roam the world freely."

His hand closed around itself to form a fist, and the chains appeared again. He was glowing with his Nen and his sensei was taken aback, but retained the fierce glance. "I think the one being restrained by the chains are you."

"What do you know?"

It's not like your opinion matters.

Hand still in a fist, his heart raged in his chest. If no one would be there to support him, well, he would do it on his own. He had been alone from the start; he would be able to finish it without anyone as well.

I will put an end to them.

Specialization

"Ohayou gozaimasu~"

Morning came by faster than she thought it would have come in the night. She stretched her arms after rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She yawned. She would have slept an hour longer—her sensei allowed her an extra hour of sleep on Saturdays and Sundays—but that day was a special day, a bit too special for another hour of sleep.

She stared at herself in the mirror, running her brush across the blonde strands of her hair with quick, brusque strokes. After she got it tidy, she walked toward her closet and took a minute thinking what easy-to-wear clothes she could take out for the day. With a smile she settled with a red-and-white knee-length blouse with ribbons, and cropped jeans. She would pair it up with her favourite boots and as she tied the last lace, she felt for the spare money she had kept under her pillowcase and she thought what she would get for that special day.

Her sensei was sitting at the table, with a mug of his usual dark, sugar-less coffee and a fresh copy of the day's paper. In front of him was a plate of toasted bread, six loaves. She smiled—he already toasted some for her in advance. He might have heard her fix in her room.

"You going somewhere?" her master asked lightly, conversationally.

Akane scratched the back of her head. "Umm, actually, that was my plan." She paced to the cabinet to get herself a glass to drink orange juice, while munching on a loaf of toasted bread.

"And where are you going?" he asked. His eyes, earlier staring intently at her motions, travelled back to the paper, which suddenly seemed more important than asking her about her plans. It seemed like he was keeping up the conversation just so that there wouldn't be an awkward silence between them so early in the morning.

"Nowhere special," she replied, taking a loaf of toasted bread. It was obvious what it meant that it didn't even need clarifying—I'm not telling you. "Town, maybe. Then to the river. Someplace quiet. I don't know."

But she knew and he knew that she knew. He didn't bother to ask—that day, the calendar he had hung by the front door to mark for special events and keep track of Akane's training was marked with a blue gift. He took a sip of his coffee as Akane sat down on the seat in front of him, not to eat leisurely, just waiting for him to give her the permission.

Finally, after a long, silent wait and awkward chewing, he said, "Go. Take the bike if you need it."

"Thank you!" Akane said with a cheery smile. If she knew any better she would have just gone over and gave a hug to her sensei, but she knew how sensitive he was in the mornings—really, dead sensitive—so she didn't bother. She grabbed the keys to the bike-lock that hung on the nail where the calendar hung and she went outside with the biggest grin in her face.

"Training starts after dinner, girl!" her master added right before she pushed the bike out of the gate.

The bright April sun beat down on her face. The weather was a fair one, and there was no sign of rain. White clouds pranced in front of the sun to provide shade once in a while, but not too often. A kind wind blew through the city once in a while. There was no way she wouldn't make this day even more special than it already was. She pocketed the keys of the now-unlocked bike and started the long, fun, downhill ride to town.

It had been a good month or more since she'd been training. She hadn't even bothered to count or check the days. She'd known the city by heart now, especially since most of the time her sensei ended up telling her to buy food or ingredients for cooking. From their house, turn a left and ride on straight—that was the wet market. The other end was the hospital. If you lead the route straight ahead there was the center of the city, with the municipal offices, the school, and the park. Walk a little in the alleyways outside the public school and you would find the book shop. On the other side of the municipal offices was the drugstore, and the department store.

The wind breezed through her hair as she let go of the pedals to just slide down the slope, mentally screaming WEEEEEEEE in her head like a child in a roller coaster.

She turned the corner right before the school, to reach the little alley that, that very week, they had decided to turn into a little bazaar for the city. She hopped out of her bike with a smile. Instead of riding it, she walked it around in the tight, narrow streets, looking at all the people and their merchandise.

Hmm… she thought. She was walking really slowly, prodding through the streets, eyes open for anything that might catch her eye. What would he like? Her eyes wandered from stall to stall, looking at the items. There were charms, bracelets, necklaces. One store even sold printed neckties. But most of the stores sold items for girls, bangles and accessories.

(She was interested on what Kurapika's reaction would be, if he was to be given something girly, but she did not want to be the one at risk. No thanks.)

He may want new clothes, she thought, eyes peering through the windows of a shop. There were boy clothes inside, loose shirts and long-sleeved polo shirts. But, considering Kurapika's sensitivity, she decided not to go inside and check because he might take the gesture as an insult. She continued her walk in the bazaar.

She turned a left because she had reached the end of the bazaar, only to find the best store so far. Aaaah, she thought with a smile as she approached the nearby bike rack right across—lucky her. "Perfect," she said.

She locked the bike with its padlock, and, after making sure that it was secure, went inside the store. The calm, intoxicating scent of sandalwood mingling with the wafting of the scent of freshly-printed books entered her nostrils, overwhelming her. That very moment, she asked herself why she wasn't actually fond of reading—only to be answered by her brain that she hated the words, she hated thinking about it.

But Kurapika…he was different. There might be something in here, she thought, looking at the titles of the books that stood in the display shelves. Kurapika was different—he hid behind the words that he used, smart-assed and full of knowledge, because he needed to defend what he was fighting for. The titles of the books—Akane had no idea what the hell they were. Much less had she any clue on what he may like. But she could probably guess.

Maybe something familiar, she thought, fingers tracing the brittle spines of the old books. Classics, she thought, might be a good read for Kurapika—wasn't he reading the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet back in the Hunter Exam?

But looking at the title, Akane could only sweatdrop. Damn… these books look too hard… She leaned against the wooden shelf and sighed deeply. What do I get a guy like him? I have no idea what I should get him? The titles of the books she had previously passed by didn't seem so interesting to what she thought would be Kurapika's taste—Idiot's Guide on Boats; The Fast and the Furious : Cars 101; Effective Kama Sutra for couples; The graphic novel of the Twilight Saga.

She was looking for something that might be familiar to her eyes, but there was none. Then, she decided to go on with luck. She closed her eyes and fumbled through the shelves, and after the twentieth count picked the first book that her hands could tackle.

A smile crept up her distressed face. Maybe I should rely on luck a bit more often… oh wait, I already do. She rolled her eyes at the thought as she observed the book she found. It was a purple, leather bound book with its title, written in calligraphy, embossed in some kind of golden ink at the front. It didn't look too old, but it didn't look new either—the pages were faded. She guessed maybe around ten years, maybe even fifteen.

She thumbed around the book. It was about 500 pages long, and it was even a manuscript—it was a book written by hand. She thought of all the labor put into it. It had a really beautiful, neat calligraphy in every page. It was a worth buy, or so she believed.

I hope he likes it, she thought, as she walked toward the counter thoughtfully, her pinky tracing the neat writing in which the title and its author was written in at the very front of the hardbound book.

Inferno
Dante

"Oh dear, you're a classic lover?" the cashier asked, after putting the book into a brown paper bag.

Scratching the back of her neck with one hand—it had become a habit; where she picked it up was out of her bounds—she handed the money to the cashier. "Oh, not really… it's for a friend."

"Then he must be really special," the cashier said. He handed her the change to the book and she smiled warily. "Here, take one of these cards. I'm sorry; our gift-wrapping guy is out for today. He said he was busy. I hope these cards will do."

"Oh, they will. Thank you!" Akane said, taking one that she liked—one with a puppy on it—and wrote. 'Hey you! Happy Birthday Kurapika! It's April 4, I hope you didn't forget ;)'

She walked out of the store and with a smug smile, unlocked her bike, and started to wind out of the bazaar. Gift on the basket, she hopped on the bike and rode across the city and out. The uphill ride was much harder—and definitely less fun—than the downhill ride, but she pushed on. Through the window, when she passed by, she waved to her sensei who was staring out the window. He pretended not to notice.

But then again, the ride uphill was much easier than the ride through the thickets. Sure, there was a path that she could easily follow—Kurapika and his sensei had been going down the city once or a twice a time, too—but it was hard preventing her bike wheels from getting stuck in the weeds and the vines. Twigs, bushes, and shrubs got in the way, too, and she was doing all she can to avoid the bamboo splinters.

Oh what a better place to train than this, you masochistic moron, she teased him in her head, rolling her eyes.

She reached the house of Kurapika's sensei within twenty minutes. She took a deep breath, a sign of great relief. Wiping the sweat off her face, she decided she could worry about going down later.

"Sensei-san?" she called, as she was trained to call him. The man, who was sitting on a stump of a tree smoking his cigarette, nodded in acknowledgement to the blonde girl.

"Yo, Akane." He paused, waiting for her to fill in the silence with the question. But she did not say anything, just merely staring at him as she unloaded the paper bag from the basket. He raised an eyebrow—he probably didn't know. "He's by the stream, cooking lunch."

"Okay," Akane said. "Arigatou, Sensei-san." She walked toward the direction of the stream to find him there, indeed. She smiled. "Kurapikaaaaa~"

He turned around, his bangs covering his eyes. His hair had gotten a good length longer since the last time she saw him. His bangs reached up below his eyebrows, and his hair was halfway through his neck. She would love to cut it for him, but she knew how bad she did haircuts—hers was an utter proof to that.

"Akane?" he asked curiously, putting down the knife where he was cleaning the fish. Akane had a lasting memory of him cleaning a fish of its insides, but she put that away. It wasn't the time for that. "Why are you here?"

She grinned. "You forgot? Geez, you." She pushed the paper bag against his chest. "Happy Birthday! You're like, what, 18 now? So old."

He widened his eyes and took the paper bag from her. He was shocked. Dumbfounded even. His own shisho didn't even bother to greet him, so who would remember…

"You know, I would have forgotten, too. Blame me and my stupid goldfish memory, it's always like that with birthdays. But not this time, I made sure to mark the date," she said with a smug, bratty air around her like what she'd done was something no one else in the world does. Then, her eyes turning serious, she told Kurapika, "Don't take the book too seriously, though. …I think it's serious. But don't take it too seriously, it's not good for you."

He opened the paper bag, feeling the stapler snap with his force and he took out the book. He was awestruck—definitely it was a rare copy and for her to find it just like that. His hands run across the old leather, purple now, and he blinked. "This is nice…"

"You're welcome!" Akane said, closing her eyes like in a hero time pose. A grin was about to make its way to her face and just as she was about to do her ultimate plan, Kurapika had embraced her. Sheepishly, but it was an embrace nonetheless. Blood rushed to her cheeks with surprise, but then it faded away.

"Thank you," he murmured to her ear, before letting go.

The grin finally went to her face successfully and she nodded. "You're welcome. But now, you're going to have to pay for what you did, touching me like that."

Kurapika still had his eyebrow raised right before Akane had pushed him into the water with a strong finger.