[HxH&YYH] Strangers in a Strange Land (3/10)

[ukefied]

THE MOMENT OF TRUTH i.e. will this post correctly? Apologies for any wonky formatting.

title: strangers in a strange land
series: crossover with hunter x hunter and yu yu hakusho
disclaimer: no own, no sue, no touchie.
word count: 2,786/10,650 (so far)
rating/warnings: R for cursing, violence, and an actually serious crossover.
character/pairings: primarily hiei and kurapika; shadings of hiei/mukuro, past kurama/kurapika, and a couple of not-so-surprising surprises.
notes: you guys asked for it. you have no one to blame but yourselves. some titles derived from various novels, because i am a filthy, filthy plagiarist. this fic borrows on the assumption of a previous crossover that i have not written; ergo, everybody is already acquainted. but fear not, for all shall be explained. ♥ previous chapters are here. thanks to saaski_moql for the beta.
chapter summary: exposition, exposition, exposition OKAY LET'S WAVE OUR SWORDS AROUND
chapter notes: thanks to little_details for the Russian help. Russian is used as the "foreign language" because a) it sounds exotic and wacky, and b) I don't speak a word of it, ergo, using it in this context doesn't weird me out. Also, I kill myself -- but I'm not telling you why, lest you lose your remaining respect for me.



Strangers in a Strange Land
by Mina Lightstar
Chapter Three: The Welcome Wagon



Sashan's home is small, but cozy. A fire burns steadily in the hearth, where a pot of stew simmers. The scent of fresh baked bread fills the kitchen, and Hiei notes some pies cooling on the windowsill. Sashan's family is not in and therefore does not eat with them, but Sashan ushers Hiei and Kurapika to the tiny kitchen table and makes them sit down.

She appears to have given up trying to communicate with them using words. In a flurry of movement, she sets the places before them with plates, knives, and cups of tea. Then comes warm bread and butter, which Hiei helps himself to without delay. Kurapika spreads marmalade onto his slice and takes a huge bite before washing it down with tea.

The butter melts into the thick white bread, and the combination melts in his mouth as he chews. Were Hiei one to describe such things, he would say that the entree is delectable. But the last thing he wants to do is start throwing adjectives around like Kurapika, so he remains silent and grabs another helping instead.

Sashan comes around with more tea and bowls of stew. She murmurs something that sounds appreciative as she removes the empty bread basket, and gives them a sunny smile. Hiei then proceeds to take note of his surroundings. Aside from the well-kept home, the one thing he remarks upon is the map, embroidered on tapestry and decorating the far wall. "Kurapika," he says, nodding towards it before stuffing his mouth with succulent stew.

The Kuruta's gaze flickers towards the wall. Hiei is not much of a talker, but Kurapika has no qualms about wanting answers -- in whatever language he happens to be immersed in at the time. "Sashan," he ventures, setting his spoon against the side of his bowl.

"Hmm?" she asks, turning from her pile of laundry.

Kurapika pushes up from the table and walks to the map. He gives their host an inquisitive look, and points. "Where are we?"

"Ah," she says, joining him at the map. After a moment's consideration, she points to a little dot in the western section of the continent. "Vy dzes," she tells him, tapping the spot for emphasis. She looks at Kurapika for one long moment, and then over her shoulder at Hiei, who continues eating. Whatever she decides to believe they are, her thoughts prompt her to add, "Eto Rhaedon," as she draws a huge invisible circle about the map.

Rhaedon sounds a little different to Hiei's ears; clearly not the same language. Coupled with the size of the tapestry map, Hiei determines that this world is vast, probably at least on the same scale as their respective homeworlds. Damn, he thinks, bitterness entwining with anger. There could be a million pockets in this world, or only one. Either way, they have to a lot of ground to cover.

And they're going to have to hope they even find a pocket, sooner rather than later.

Hiei glances back at Kurapika, who is now examining the map with ardent attention, probably committing it to memory. He stifles a snort, and shovels more stew into his mouth. Best he stuff himself now; another home-cooked meal might be long in coming.

"I take it back," Kurapika sighs, dropping back into his chair. "This is the worst mess I've ever gotten myself into."

Hiei raises an eyebrow. "Best make for the nearest city."

"Why?" As he wonders, Kurapika reaches into his black jacket. He produces a pen and small pad of paper, and then immediately begins sketching. After a few pen-strokes, Hiei can see that the Kuruta is recreating the large map.

Hiei shrugs. "It's as good a place as any to start. Maybe we can find some provisions there. Face it, we might be here for a while."

Kurapika mutters something under his breath. "All right. It looks like there's a city west of this village. Not sure how far; until we figure out how they tell time and measure distance--"

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Hiei huffs. "All we need is to keep moving, and keep our eyes and senses open for a pocket." He nods toward Kurapika's bowl. "I'd finish that. Could be a while until your next one."

The blond nods, but finishes sketching the map before he obeys.

The rest of their meal passes in silence, save for Sashan's puttering about her kitchen. She has not said a word since explaining the map, but Hiei knows she has been watching them. Ignoring her scrutiny, he studies the clock on the far wall; there are only twenty-four marks on its face, each one of equal size. How to tell time, hn?

"Candlemarks," Hiei says.

"What?" Kurapika asks, looking around. Then he finds the clock. "Oh, I see. One mark is roughly equivalent to an hour, assuming they have a twenty-four hour day."

"Not an unusual method of telling time," Hiei agrees. "I know Makai once used the same method." He pauses, and then adds, "Before we invented the clock, and passed the knowledge along to the humans of Ningenkai."

"So you'd know what time it was there?" Kurapika wonders absently, studying his handiwork.

"Something like that." Hiei appraises the mini map; it's a pretty good rendition. "Heading west, are we? Let's get on with it."

Kurapika nods, looking slightly put-upon. Hiei wonders how the Kuruta will take to sleeping on the ground.

He smirks. Or in trees.

***

Sashan refuses to let them leave until she packs them some dry food and two skeins of water. Hiei and Kurapika accept her cheeses and breads and jerkies gratefully. It's a conversation based entirely on action and expression, but Kurapika can tell that she is sorry to see them go.

"Dosvidanya," she says, bringing her hands together at her heart before gracing them with a shallow bow.

"Goodbye," Kurapika guesses the meaning, and mimics her actions.

"Hn," Hiei adds, albeit more softly than usual.

Armed with the makeshift map, Kurapika begins leading the way, following Sashan's indicated directions and heading west. Their reprieve is over; now they have to concentrate on finding a way home.

He notices Sashan's fellow villagers giving them looks that range from curious to suspicious, and tries to ignore them. "I hope the cities are more forgiving," he comments. "Snooping around for a pocket will be easier if everyone thinks we're local."

"Start learning the language. That'll help."

Kurapika heaves his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "I tried looking at one of Sashan's books. I can't even make sense of the characters, let alone read them." Ha. I might have time to learn, he thinks, bitterly.

"A shame," the fire demon replies. The tone makes Kurapika think Hiei will flit ahead, but he doesn't. "Looks to be mid-afternoon," he adds.

Kurapika glances up. "You're right, the light has changed. Finally, I was beginning to think this world didn't have night."

The river that ran through the village continues west, putting freshwater at close range should they need it. The path winds up and twists away from the river, but Kurapika can tell from the relatively straight road that the rushing water will not be far from reach.

"Should we sleep in shifts?" he asks, mostly for the sake of conversation.

"Hn. Nothing could get close enough without waking us."

"If there's anything out here," Kurapika amends, looking around. He stifles a yawn; it has been a very long day.





They spend their first night in Rhaedon on the grass, grateful that it happens to be summer. When the yellow sun lights up the yellow sky, they find that sleeping in is impossible.

"It burns right through your eyelids!" Hiei snarls upon awakening -- definitely not a morning-person.

"At least it encourages an early start," Kurapika offers, rubbing his eyes. Silently, he resolves to sleep on his stomach tonight -- with an arm over his head.

After a light breakfast of honeyed buns from Sashan's packs, they continue west.

***

Hiei hasn't bothered to ask Kurapika how long they've been walking, but calculates that a couple of hours have passed, at least. Their beaten path has brought them into a small forest, shielding them from the sun. Conversation has been minimal, much to Hiei's content; they have only nature's chirping as background noise.

Or did, anyway.

Hiei hears the scuffle in the near distance, stopping in his tracks. His ears pique, drawn toward the sound. "Did you--?"

"Yes," Kurapika answers, spinning towards the direction of the sound. "It came from the river."

"Hn. Let's see what it is." Even as he makes the suggestion, they're moving: off the path and into the underbrush, trained to move across dry leaves and sticks with nary a sound. What little noise they do make is covered by the commotion on the riverbed.

Hiei and Kurapika take refuge behind a couple of half-dead bushes. Hiei isn't sure what he was expecting, but when he peeks through the leaves, he is almost disappointed. They're witnessing a robbery: five big ugly cutthroats are relieving one middle-aged merchant of his cart -- and probably its pullers, the two oxen that continue to drink, unconcerned.

"He must have gone down there to water his oxen," Kurapika determines, sneaking a peek through the underbrush. "I wonder if there is a problem with brigands on this path."

Hiei scowls at him. "I don't like your tone of voice, or where you're going with it." The Kuruta doesn't answer, continuing to size up the situation from their vantage point. "This is a robbery by the brutish and insecure," Hiei tries. "We've seen it a thousand times. Don't make unnecessary trouble for us."

The shouting is steadily escalating in volume. Hiei peeks through the bushes, mouth twisting in distaste at the brigands's terrorizing of the weak. One of the masked brigands makes the first move, seizing the peddler and lifting him off the ground. Classic intimidation; seems it exists in every world. Hiei senses movement on his left.

"Don't!" he snaps at the Blacklist Hunter, who is already poised to charge. "Idiot, did you forget already? If one of us dies, the other may be trapped here forever! They're only robbing him; it's his goods they want, so don't get involved!"

"Hiei," Kurapika begins with strained patience, "my morals don't lapse in other dimensions. And you're talking to the Hunter who apprehended the Blue Locusts -- so if you won't help, stay here and hide."

"Aaaah!" the peddler shrieks -- a blood-curdling plea that people only make when faced with death.

Hiei's gaze jerks back to the robbery. He sees the steel, hears the victim's blubbering, and feels the wind generated by Kurapika's leap into the fray.

"Kurapika!" he snaps angrily. Knowing it's a lost cause, Hiei stands up and unsheathes his sword. I'm going to kill him when this is over, he swears, and flits down to the river.




"Hold it!" Kurapika orders, racing down the hill to the riverbank. Dead twigs snap beneath his boots, the sound muted by the five men's angry shouts at his intrusion. Predictably, three of the five move forward to meet him, short swords poised -- mediocre skill, he can tell from the stance they take.

A moment before they engage, he remembers that he has no weapon. He summons his chains, and stops short -- feels like he's been punched in the stomach by a furious bodybuilder. The wind is knocked out of him, and he chokes, sees double -- and the only reason he doesn't fall is the faraway knowledge that he will die if he does. Three seconds, is a distant, instinctive thought.

He grounds himself by sheer force of will; the six men become three and the pain becomes something to be dealt with later. Two seconds.

It probably looks ridiculous, the way he's seemingly staring at these charging men. He isn't looking at them, though; he's looking within, grasping almost desperately for the evasive strands of Nen that he trained so hard to cultivate so as to avoid situations like this -- warmth. Security, familiarity.

One second.

One sleek sword becomes entangled in chains that are more than metal. The effort required is staggering, but Kurapika manages to rip the blade from the brigand's hand and send it whirling into the underbrush. The man shouts something -- there's anger, and disbelief -- but before he can finish, Kurapika knocks him backward with a swift strike to the nose, using the heel of his palm. Even as the first man tumbles, Kurapika turns to face the second man. He sees the faltering, the hesitation, and uses both to his advantage.

He's felled the second offender with ease when something -- Hiei -- whizzes by. The third brigand has no defense for this thing that moves a hundred times faster than he can. His body drops like dead weight, and Hiei overtakes the fourth (fleeing) bandit as Kurapika faces the fifth.

It's almost disappointing when the huge brigand drops his hostage and takes off, running west along the riverbed. Kurapika mourns his wasted adrenaline, but whistles quietly as he watches the ambling bandit flee.

"That lumpy, overgrown rock can really move!" he comments to Hiei. "He might be faster than you!" he adds when the fire demon appears next to him.

"Let's see," Hiei quips sadistically, and flits after him.

Kurapika doesn't watch, knowing how that race will end. Instead, he turns to the merchant they've rescued, finding him sitting where he landed. Preparing for the language barrier, Kurapika raises his hands in surrender and slowly closes the gap. "Are you all right?"

The merchant is frazzled, but unhurt. He strokes his bushy red beard -- nervous tic? -- and wipes sweaty palms on his tunic. "Ha-harasho, spasiba," he wheezes, sounding grateful and not frightened. "Spasiba," he stresses again, and Kurapika guesses that means "thank you."

"You're welcome," he replies, offering the man a hand-up. The merchant accepts, but once on his feet, he unabashedly examines Kurapika's fingers, trying to find out where the chains came from.

"Kuruta!" Hiei snaps as he flits over, pockets undoubtedly full of currency that once lined the bandits's pockets. "What the hell was that?"

Kurapika winces inwardly. My extravagant entrance. He would rub it in. "Try using your youki for something," he suggests. "Something that won't scare him," he adds wryly, giving the inquisitive merchant a sidelong glance.

Hiei gives him a dirty look, but complies -- and the look is traded for a rapid series of surprise, confusion, and effort. After a few seconds -- an eternity to Hiei, no doubt -- he manages to make a flame in his palm, shielding it from the merchant with his other hand. "Bloody hell," he growls. "The atmosphere here, it's so different from what we're used to. It's affecting our senses, youki, Nen -- damn it."

"It probably isn't a good idea for us to rely on youki or Nen," Kurapika reasons, frowning. "We should avoid using them, if possible. Who knows what kind of long-term affects on us it might have? Hey, ow," he pulls his hand back from the merchant. "No pinching."

Hiei watches the merchant leave them to retrieve his oxen. "Why not," he muses snidely. "This is already the worst experience I've ever had. Now nothing will ever surpass it."

Kurapika stops himself from rolling his eyes. "Maybe he'll give us a ride to the next city. Then you can take a nap on the wagon, and maybe wake up in a better mood." He ignores Hiei's look, glancing around at the felled bandits. "You didn't kill any of them, did you?"

"Hn!" Hiei snorts. "Not worth it. This was like taking a stick away from a baby. Human baby, of course."

"Of course." Kurapika approaches the bearded merchant's cart and watches him hitch the oxen. "Excuse me," he ventures, "do you think we could get a ride?" He points to the back of the wagon, then to Hiei and himself.

The merchant nods vigorously. "Paidyomte sa mnoy!" he encourages, clambering up into the seat. He pats the space next to him invitingly.

Kurapika smiles at Hiei. "There, see? Aren't you glad we saved him?"

"Hn," is Hiei's only reply. He throws one of the bandit's short swords at Kurapika -- hilt-first, thankfully. "You'll need one to get us into any more trouble."

"Thanks. Grab me another one, would you?" He climbs onto the cart. "Scabbards, too, if you don't mind."

Hiei snarls something uncomplimentary, but complies if only for the fact that he can fetch them much more quickly. Once the demon is aboard the wagon, their new merchant friend flicks the reins and they are on their way. Kurapika quickly learns that had he and Hiei traveled a few paces further, they would have reached a fork in the road that led down to the riverbed.

"This is a much better way to travel," Kurapika says, sliding his pilfered weapons onto his belt. "Isn't it?"

Hiei is already napping.



END CHAPTER THREE.