Kurapika/Reader: Twelve Steps

Chapter 17: Malebolge

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Kurapika demanded of Camille. "WHY ISN'T IT STOPPING?!" The taller male turned his palms up carelessly.

"The effects can't be reversed once the polarity has started."

Kurapika's breath stilled for an instant, perhaps in denial. His first instinct was to accuse the man of lying, but he knew if he had secretly disobeyed Kurapika's order his chain would've activated. Therefore, it stood to reason that his terrible words held the truth. Kurapika knew you must've realized this too, for he heard you let out a forsaken sob. You wished you'd black out so you wouldn't have to endure this! Then, as if fate were timed, a final blast erupted from outside, leaving the three of you in dead silence. There would be no more Olympian warfare, of gods on mortal ground. It was finished. In fact you almost found it a perfect juxtaposition to your own situation. Your end would come alongside another's, and you could walk the shores of the afterlife with that soul, whomever it turned out to be.

Death was better than this. It had to be. This feeling of your muscles buckling, your nerves dissolving. Stretching. Aching! Sparks were shooting through you as the serrated edge of nothing tore you apart from the inside. Tears flowed freely from your eyes now, and Kurapika saw the blood vessels had burst in them, leaving them red from strain. Now they matched his own in a gruesome sickening way. Your severed arm had been nothing compared to this. A mere walk in the park. In a heightened state of hysteria you gripped onto him, wherever you could reach, trying to convey your desperation. "Pika! Kill me! Please!"

Lost...

You'd never seen a look like that on Kurapika's face before, not even when you first met him and he truly was lost in the traditional sense. He had always been that way, a problem solver, always forward-looking. It was part of what drew you to him in the first place, be it out of curiosity or admiration. You couldn't remember which it had been now. But the look in his eyes was utterly barren, helpless, and it almost stilled your chaotic spirit for an instant. A trickle of blood flowed down from the corner of your mouth and you tried to speak. You wanted to tell him this wasn't his fault, to offer any comfort, but you had no words of goodbye.

"NGH!" Kurapika wrenched his eyes shut for an instant, gnashing his teeth, and he growled a pained order to you. "Hold on for me, F/N!" Before you knew it his healing chain was off of you, and you began succumbing to the affliction once more. Kurapika became a man consumed. This foe- no. This animal before him deserved no mercy, and he would receive none...

Was there music again? Or were you imagining it? It was hard to be certain in this new world of screaming blackbirds, this place where you would lie gurgling like a wretch for eternity. Your skin had been broken like porcelain, and you were being drained of every drop of lifeblood, of the will to survive.

This time the snap you heard was bones cracking, and your adversary at last crumbled to the ground with an unceremonious thud, head twisted in an unnatural direction. Speaking of unnatural phenomena, the theatrical manmade weather disturbances had compelled the clouds to weep, and the gentle fall of rain surrounded the compound.

Kurapika returned to your side, healing chain encasing you once more, along with his arms. And now you were being lifted. Your clever partner suspected that if the Nen-user died then his passive ability would cease too. He had been correct in that assumption, for the pain had stopped increasing the instant Camille's body made contact with the floor. However, it had already reached a level far past unbearable, and the damage was already done.

You wanted to vomit, if there was any organ left in your body that would allow you to do so. You were a cavern. An empty husk. Surely your insides had melted. Your bones had turned to dust. You would rather be dead. 'Why am I still here? I should give up...' But even as you thought it, a voice was there, contradicting those thoughts.