Chapter 2 : The Whispering Woods
The forest was quiet—too quiet.Only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird broke the stillness. The air was damp and cold, and the scent of rain clung to the soil.
Kurapika walked barefoot through the thick roots and fallen branches. His steps were unsteady, his clothes torn, and dried blood still clung to his wrists. Every step echoed softly in the empty woods, like a reminder that he was the only one left alive.
He didn't cry anymore.There were no tears left to shed.
He just walked, following the faint pull of something deep inside him—his Nen. He could feel it now, a living energy swirling within his chest, faint but steady, responding to every heartbeat. It felt… familiar.
So this is aura… my Nen.He muttered in his mind, touching his chest. The warmth of his life energy calmed him a little, even though the pain in his heart refused to fade.
He knew exactly where he was—the outer edge of the forest near the Kurta village. In the anime he used to watch, this place was never mentioned. It was a blank spot, a forgotten piece of the map. But he knew what world this was.He knew the faces of those who killed his clan.He knew how strong they were.And he knew… he wasn't ready yet.
This world isn't fiction anymore… he thought, gripping his arm. I'm really Kurapika now. The Kurta Clan… my family… they're gone.
The wind blew through the trees, whispering through the branches like a thousand soft voices. It sounded almost alive. The forest was vast and filled with energy, the air humming faintly with aura. Even without trying, Kurapika could feel strange presences—animals, hidden life, and something darker deeper inside.
His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten in two days.He found a stream nearby and knelt, drinking the cold water with shaking hands. The reflection in the water showed his face—young, pale, and tired. His golden eyes looked dull, but when he focused on his reflection, they glimmered faintly red.
Emperor Eyes… he whispered.Even without activating them, he could feel the power sleeping behind his gaze—a sharp heat that stirred when his emotions rose. He could sense Nen around him more clearly when he focused. The world looked more vivid, as if painted in light.
He took a deep breath and tried to stand, but his knees trembled. "I need food," he murmured softly, looking around for anything edible.
He remembered something from the canon—how Gon survived in the wild, fishing and hunting. Kurapika tried to mimic him. He took a sharp stone and shaped it into a crude knife, then used vines as traps. It was slow and painful work.
The first night was rough.He failed to catch anything.The second night, he caught a small rabbit but could barely start a fire. He didn't sleep, afraid of beasts.
On the third day, he collapsed beside a tree, his body trembling with hunger and exhaustion. His aura flickered weakly.
"Damn it…" he whispered, gripping the dirt. "I can't die here. Not yet."
He forced his Nen to flow—Ten to protect his body, the way he remembered from the canon. It felt unnatural at first, like trying to hold air in his skin. But he refused to give up. Slowly, a thin film of aura coated him, protecting him from the cold.
"Ten… then Zetsu…" he muttered, closing his eyes.He stopped his aura flow completely, feeling the silence spread through his body. Every sound in the forest grew sharper, clearer. He could feel something moving nearby.
Leaves shifted. Branches cracked softly.
A presence was approaching—calm, steady, and heavy. Not a beast. A human.
Kurapika opened his eyes and grabbed the stone knife, forcing himself to stand. His aura flared slightly in response to the threat.
Then, from the mist, an old man stepped out.He had silver hair tied back, a short beard, and wore a simple brown cloak with a hood. His eyes were sharp but calm, the kind that had seen too much of the world. A small pipe rested in his lips, and his aura flowed like a steady river.
"Easy, boy," the old man said in a low, deep voice. "You'll scare the animals away if you keep leaking aura like that."
Kurapika froze. The old man could see his aura. That meant—
"You're a Nen user," Kurapika said quietly.
The old man raised a brow, slightly surprised. "You know about Nen? That's not something a child your age should understand."
Kurapika lowered his weapon but didn't relax. "I learned it myself," he said. "Or maybe… it was always there."
The old man chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Hmph. You remind me of myself when I was young. Always trying to sound older than I am."
He stepped closer, eyeing Kurapika's torn clothes and tired face. "You look half-dead. If you don't rest, the forest will eat you alive."
"I'll survive," Kurapika said coldly.
"Will you, now?" the man replied. "Tell me, child—do you even know where you are?"
Kurapika hesitated. "…The forest near the Kurta village."
The man's expression darkened slightly. "Ah. So you're one of them."
Kurapika's hand tightened around the stone knife. "Was."
The old man studied him for a moment, then sighed. "So it's true. I heard rumors that the Kurta Clan was wiped out."
Kurapika said nothing. The silence stretched between them, heavy and painful.
The old man looked up at the trees. "This forest is cruel. It tests everything—your body, your mind, and your spirit. But it also gives second chances."
"Second chances?" Kurapika repeated quietly.
The man nodded. "My name is Ronan. I used to be a Hunter. Retired a long time ago. Now I live here. Less noise, fewer people, fewer lies." He looked at Kurapika again. "You have the eyes of someone who's lost everything. I've seen that look before."
Kurapika didn't answer. He just looked down, fists clenched.
Ronan sighed and dropped a small pouch on the ground. "Food. Dried meat and bread. Eat. Then decide if you want to keep walking into your death, or learn how to survive."
Kurapika stared at the pouch, then at the old man. "Why would you help me?"
Ronan smirked. "Because I don't like seeing talent go to waste. And you, boy… you have a strange aura. Wild, but strong. Feels like it's trying to burn through your body."
Kurapika hesitated, then sat down slowly, opening the pouch. The smell of food made his stomach twist painfully. He ate quietly, glancing at Ronan now and then.
"You said you were a Hunter," Kurapika said between bites. "What kind?"
"Did a bit of everything," Ronan replied. "Beast hunting, bounty work, relic recovery. Retired after losing a friend on a job. Decided I'd had enough blood on my hands."
Kurapika nodded slowly. "So… why live here?"
Ronan looked around. "Because this forest never lies. It kills or it spares, but it doesn't deceive. The world outside? Full of people pretending to be saints while stabbing each other in the back."
Kurapika lowered his eyes. "I know."
Ronan studied him. "You're too calm for someone who's lost his clan. Either you're strong… or broken."
Kurapika didn't respond. Inside, he thought:
You wouldn't believe me if I told you I already knew this would happen.
The wind blew again, carrying whispers through the trees. Kurapika shivered, not from the cold, but from something deeper—a strange mix of fear and determination.
Ronan stood up, his pipe smoke curling into the air. "If you want to survive, come to my cabin when the sun rises. It's a few miles north. Follow the river until you see the stone arch. If you'd rather die, keep walking alone. The forest will decide."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and disappeared into the mist, his aura fading slowly until it was gone.
Kurapika sat in silence for a long time. The fire crackled weakly beside him, the faint light reflecting in his golden eyes.
A retired Hunter… Ronan. I don't remember anyone like him from the story. That means things are already changing.
He looked down at his hands, faintly glowing with aura.This is my second life. I can't waste it. I won't just follow the same path.
He clenched his fist tightly.I'll get stronger… and this time, I'll make sure no one from my clan died for nothing.
Above him, the moon broke through the clouds, shining over the forest. The wind whispered softly again, as if carrying unseen voices through the branches.
Kurapika lay back against the tree, the food finally settling in his stomach. His eyes slowly closed, exhaustion taking over. But before he fell asleep, he whispered to the night:
"…Ronan. I'll find you in the morning."
And in the quiet of the Whispering Woods, Kurapika finally rested—for the first time since his new life began.