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31_days2005-09-02 10:51 pm
lacunarity.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-09-02 10:51 pm
[September 2] [Hunter x Hunter] Stray
Title: Stray
Day/Theme: September 2 -- Cat
Series: Hunter x Hunter
Character/Pairing: Shalnark, Kuroro, Pakunoda
Rating: G
The car broke down when I was twelve. Technically, it broke down multiple times between the years when I was eleven and its untimely (and rather explosive) demise when I was fourteen, but there was something special about that particular accident. After all, it was how I met Dancho.
I was halfway between the dump site and my home village when I saw the broken car. The first thing that struck my interest about the car wasn’t its unusual passengers or the large amount of smoke billowing from under the hood; it was how the sunlight reflected off the perfect, smooth, jet black paint.
There’s something most people don’t realize about the City of the Shooting Star: nothing is ever new. The clothes I wore were threadbare, but clean. In my right hand was my laptop, built from parts scavenged from four or five broken computers. In my left hand was my tool kit—no two tools came from the same set. Everything I carried—which was also, technically, everything I owned—was patched, dented, used, repaired, assembled, scavenged, and otherwise, old.
The car looked new, and to a young boy who had lived all his life in a converted wastesite, it was dazzling.
A woman was leaning over the open hood, fanning the smoke away and peering intently at the engine. Again, what first struck me about her appearance wasn’t her prominent nose or striking figure, but how her finely-tailored business suit didn’t have a patch, stain, or threadbare spot on it.
“D’you need help?” I asked. Because of her skeptical look, I added, “I’m good with machines.”
She walked toward me and placed her hand on my arm. I thought it was odd at the time, but I understand why now. “Why do you want to help?” she asked me.
I shrugged. “Fun and profit.”
It was true. I had helped out people in similar situations before, and usually got a little something in return. My memories must have agreed with what I said, because she motioned to the engine and said, “Knock yourself out.”
I spent a good 20 minutes happily poking around the engine, cheerfully humming to myself. I was so caught up in my work that I didn’t notice that a man had stepped out of the car at some point. He didn’t say much; he just watched me work. When I glanced at him, he had an odd smile on his face. “Who taught you to use Nen?” he asked me.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Nen. Your spiritual energy,” he explained when it became obvious that I hadn’t a clue.
I laughed. “Oh, is that what it’s called? A man in my village taught some of us a few meditation and concentration tricks. I didn’t know they had a name.”
“Impressive.” He had a smooth, deep voice. It said volumes without revealing a single mystery.
The woman interrupted us. Apparently, they were running late. “Can you fix it?” She was impatient, but not unkind.
“Sure, no problem.”
And, just like that, I fixed the engine. Both of them watched me as I worked, and when I glanced at them, I thought I saw a strange light about their eyes. Now I realize they were using Gyou to watch me insert Nen into the repairs, but back then it was just another mystery. I slammed the hood shut and announced that it was finished. I caught my reflection in the window and noticed I had a black smudge on my cheek.
The woman reached into her purse and offered me some money. It was then that I made the decision that would change my life, for better or worse. Better, I think. I turned down the money, and when they insisted I be compensated for my services, I said, “Take me with you.”
The woman was shocked, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Dancho was expecting something like that. “You don’t even know who we are!” the woman protested.
I thought about it for a moment, then stuck out my hand. “I’m Shalnark. Who’re you?”
Hm. They found it pretty funny, too.
The man grasped my hand in his own, not caring about the grease and dirt. “Kuroro,” he said.
“Pakunoda,” the woman volunteered before I could offer her my hand. She always was rather smart.
I nodded. “Okay, then. Mr. Kuroro, Ms. Pakunoda, please take me with you.” They didn’t say anything, but the man kept that same, strange smile. “How about a deal? You guys owe me for the repairs, right? So how about you let me come with you until the car breaks down again. Then, it’s like the work I did is gone, so you won’t owe me anything. Deal?”
The man’s odd smile widened a bit. “Deal.” Paku make some funny remark about Dancho picking up strays, but she didn’t nix our deal.
With nothing but my makeshift tool kit, my pieced-together laptop, and the clothes on my back, I climbed into the back seat of the car and left the only home I had ever known. Dancho sat in the back with me, and for the next week we carried on the most lively, bizarre conversations I have ever participated in. We simultaneously amused and confused Pakunoda. They made me stay in the car when they met with people, but other than that Dancho’s time was mine. It was heaven with four-wheel drive.
A week after I had fixed the car, it broke down again. True to my word, I grabbed my things, hopped out of the car, and started walking down the road. I waved to them and shouted, “It was nice meeting you both. Bye!” Just for fun, I added, “I’m heading toward the next city, but I think we passed a dump site about four kilometers back. You might find some tools there if you look hard.” I waved again (waving my tool kit as well) and walked away.
Paku chuckled, and I’m sure I heard someone snort, although Dancho would deny it on general principle. “Shalnark?” he called, not loudly at all.
I turned around, blinking my eyes innocently. “Yes?”
“Shall we make the same deal?”
I beamed. “You got it, Dancho.”
Kuroro looked at Paku and mouthed the word ‘Dancho?’ I knew then-and-there that the nickname would stick with me, and so would I.
It wasn’t until three weeks later, when Dancho’s car broke down the third time, that I received an official position within the Genei Ryodan.
No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t even have more than the most basic nen abilities at that point. Even though he liked me, there was no way he’d make me spider then. What I just told you was how I became Dancho’s chauffeur.
See, when the car broke the third time, I noticed that the reason it broke down so often was because it had been pushed harder than it should have. When I criticized Paku’s driving skills (and really, she was terrible at shifting), she challenged me to do better. Being a bratty, know-it-all kid, I accepted.
It worked out well. I was happy to have a job to do, Paku was happy to regain her place next to Dancho, and I think Dancho was just charmed by the image of his being driven around by a stray so small he couldn’t see over the wheel without sitting on one of Dancho’s books.
Day/Theme: September 2 -- Cat
Series: Hunter x Hunter
Character/Pairing: Shalnark, Kuroro, Pakunoda
Rating: G
The car broke down when I was twelve. Technically, it broke down multiple times between the years when I was eleven and its untimely (and rather explosive) demise when I was fourteen, but there was something special about that particular accident. After all, it was how I met Dancho.
I was halfway between the dump site and my home village when I saw the broken car. The first thing that struck my interest about the car wasn’t its unusual passengers or the large amount of smoke billowing from under the hood; it was how the sunlight reflected off the perfect, smooth, jet black paint.
There’s something most people don’t realize about the City of the Shooting Star: nothing is ever new. The clothes I wore were threadbare, but clean. In my right hand was my laptop, built from parts scavenged from four or five broken computers. In my left hand was my tool kit—no two tools came from the same set. Everything I carried—which was also, technically, everything I owned—was patched, dented, used, repaired, assembled, scavenged, and otherwise, old.
The car looked new, and to a young boy who had lived all his life in a converted wastesite, it was dazzling.
A woman was leaning over the open hood, fanning the smoke away and peering intently at the engine. Again, what first struck me about her appearance wasn’t her prominent nose or striking figure, but how her finely-tailored business suit didn’t have a patch, stain, or threadbare spot on it.
“D’you need help?” I asked. Because of her skeptical look, I added, “I’m good with machines.”
She walked toward me and placed her hand on my arm. I thought it was odd at the time, but I understand why now. “Why do you want to help?” she asked me.
I shrugged. “Fun and profit.”
It was true. I had helped out people in similar situations before, and usually got a little something in return. My memories must have agreed with what I said, because she motioned to the engine and said, “Knock yourself out.”
I spent a good 20 minutes happily poking around the engine, cheerfully humming to myself. I was so caught up in my work that I didn’t notice that a man had stepped out of the car at some point. He didn’t say much; he just watched me work. When I glanced at him, he had an odd smile on his face. “Who taught you to use Nen?” he asked me.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Nen. Your spiritual energy,” he explained when it became obvious that I hadn’t a clue.
I laughed. “Oh, is that what it’s called? A man in my village taught some of us a few meditation and concentration tricks. I didn’t know they had a name.”
“Impressive.” He had a smooth, deep voice. It said volumes without revealing a single mystery.
The woman interrupted us. Apparently, they were running late. “Can you fix it?” She was impatient, but not unkind.
“Sure, no problem.”
And, just like that, I fixed the engine. Both of them watched me as I worked, and when I glanced at them, I thought I saw a strange light about their eyes. Now I realize they were using Gyou to watch me insert Nen into the repairs, but back then it was just another mystery. I slammed the hood shut and announced that it was finished. I caught my reflection in the window and noticed I had a black smudge on my cheek.
The woman reached into her purse and offered me some money. It was then that I made the decision that would change my life, for better or worse. Better, I think. I turned down the money, and when they insisted I be compensated for my services, I said, “Take me with you.”
The woman was shocked, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Dancho was expecting something like that. “You don’t even know who we are!” the woman protested.
I thought about it for a moment, then stuck out my hand. “I’m Shalnark. Who’re you?”
Hm. They found it pretty funny, too.
The man grasped my hand in his own, not caring about the grease and dirt. “Kuroro,” he said.
“Pakunoda,” the woman volunteered before I could offer her my hand. She always was rather smart.
I nodded. “Okay, then. Mr. Kuroro, Ms. Pakunoda, please take me with you.” They didn’t say anything, but the man kept that same, strange smile. “How about a deal? You guys owe me for the repairs, right? So how about you let me come with you until the car breaks down again. Then, it’s like the work I did is gone, so you won’t owe me anything. Deal?”
The man’s odd smile widened a bit. “Deal.” Paku make some funny remark about Dancho picking up strays, but she didn’t nix our deal.
With nothing but my makeshift tool kit, my pieced-together laptop, and the clothes on my back, I climbed into the back seat of the car and left the only home I had ever known. Dancho sat in the back with me, and for the next week we carried on the most lively, bizarre conversations I have ever participated in. We simultaneously amused and confused Pakunoda. They made me stay in the car when they met with people, but other than that Dancho’s time was mine. It was heaven with four-wheel drive.
A week after I had fixed the car, it broke down again. True to my word, I grabbed my things, hopped out of the car, and started walking down the road. I waved to them and shouted, “It was nice meeting you both. Bye!” Just for fun, I added, “I’m heading toward the next city, but I think we passed a dump site about four kilometers back. You might find some tools there if you look hard.” I waved again (waving my tool kit as well) and walked away.
Paku chuckled, and I’m sure I heard someone snort, although Dancho would deny it on general principle. “Shalnark?” he called, not loudly at all.
I turned around, blinking my eyes innocently. “Yes?”
“Shall we make the same deal?”
I beamed. “You got it, Dancho.”
Kuroro looked at Paku and mouthed the word ‘Dancho?’ I knew then-and-there that the nickname would stick with me, and so would I.
It wasn’t until three weeks later, when Dancho’s car broke down the third time, that I received an official position within the Genei Ryodan.
No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t even have more than the most basic nen abilities at that point. Even though he liked me, there was no way he’d make me spider then. What I just told you was how I became Dancho’s chauffeur.
See, when the car broke the third time, I noticed that the reason it broke down so often was because it had been pushed harder than it should have. When I criticized Paku’s driving skills (and really, she was terrible at shifting), she challenged me to do better. Being a bratty, know-it-all kid, I accepted.
It worked out well. I was happy to have a job to do, Paku was happy to regain her place next to Dancho, and I think Dancho was just charmed by the image of his being driven around by a stray so small he couldn’t see over the wheel without sitting on one of Dancho’s books.