|Eyes of an Avenger
Author: WoLfePaWs PM
[one-shot] The desire to avenge his tribe had become the chains that bind him...Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst - Words: 448 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 1 - Published: 05-12-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2391826
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: HunterXHunter does not belong to me, 'nuff said.
A/N: Hmm, inspirations just came right to me while watching the series, and suddenly, I've fallen in love, yet again with hxh...anyway, have not written in a while, so pardon me if there's anything wrong anywhere...Thanks to my wonderful beta, December for looking through this. Can this even be classified as a one-shot?...anyway, kindly r&r please...
Eyes of an Avenger
Hatred. Hatred for the spiders made him see red.
Vengence. Vengence for his tribe had been etched onto his mind, like that of a brand that bound a servant to his master.
He wished he could forget that day, that day when he returned to see his village drenched in red, both from the dying light of the sun setting behind the mountains and the blood flowing in rivulets from the bodies he had once called comrades. But no, he could never forget. Not when he saw the empty sockets where the crimson eyes should be. Not when he could imagine his family, friends, neighbours crying out in tormented pain and anguish as they were robbed of their eyes. Eyes which stayed that beautiful shade of crimson even in their death.
No. He couldn't forget.
The stench of death hanging in the quiet, almost serene air over the Kuruta village had become so overbearing at one point he had retched out whatever was in his stomach, right onto the sandy ground. But he had stayed in that position nevertheless, lying on his side on the dusty sand-filled ground, not caring that his clothes was soiled, facing his already decaying tribemates with deaden eyes.
He had not known how many days passed before he came to his senses. Rescued from the edge of despair by the single desire to bring back his comrades' eyes, no matter the cause. He had spend the next two days burying his tribe, ignoring the gnawing sensation in his stomach, signalling that he should eat something soon. It wasn't long before hunger and exhaustion caught up with his body, forcing him to collapse on the ground yet again. He welcomed and embraced the darkness that invaded his senses.
He dreamt of spiders spinning cobwebs, spinning a deadly trap that dripped with dark crimson blood, and he could vividly hear angry shouts and terrified screams somewhere in the distance. He dreamt of eyes. Just fiery red eyes, eyes that had been separatering journey to seek the ones who had robbed him of everything that he had cherished. For he was the last surviving member of the Kuruta tribe.
He was an avenger.