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“Are you sure?” asks Killua, unable to hide his apprehension.
Bright midday light cuts in from the windows along the top of the wall behind Gon, forcing Killua to squint to see his ear to ear grin, determined and bubbly in equal measure, masked by the glowing halo around his silhouette. Gon nods eagerly.
Killua slumps in on his shoulders. “Gon.”
His partner is unpersuaded and drops into a defensive stance, smooth and practiced.
Killua pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath, and reluctantly steps up onto the wooden circle in the center of the padded room. If Gon was set on the idea…
Killua jumps forward, fast. Gon yelps a laugh as he hops out of the way, skipping on the balls of his feet. Killua lets him escape to the other side of the ring, and the two of them begin circling each other.
Gon is giddy, his footwork messy and uninhibited. Killua rolls his eyes and sighs a laugh.
“Focus.”
“I am focused, Killua.”
It’s not a fair fight; not even close. Gon, years later, still hasn’t got his Nen back—Killua suspects it’s never going to happen, though that isn’t an opinion he tends to voice—and Killua has started to surpass even Bisky (and Ging, on sharp days). But Gon’s never cared much about whether fights were fair.
Gon senses his slight distraction and lunges.
A numbing crackle sparks to life over Killua’s skin, sinking down through muscles and nerves to bone like roots through rich soil. His body moves of a will all its own. Gon skids to a stop where Killua used to be.
Killua can’t help the prideful smirk. Gon barks a laugh and steadies himself, quirking an eyebrow.
“Your turn, then.”
It’s easy. Easy enough that something in Killua’s gut twists as Gon sails through the air before tumbling across the mats. Killua’s eyebrows pull together, but he smooths the expression as Gon pops his head up, wobbling slightly as he gets back on his feet.
“You okay?” asks Killua.
Gon nods, the fire behind his eyes still ever-present.
They reset.
Gon watches this time, trying to predict when Killua is going to shoot like a loosened arrow. Killua catches the flash of realization over Gon’s features the millisecond before his open palm shoves Gon back.
This time Gon is still for a moment, half curled in on himself, where the wall stopped his slide. Killua’s heart jumps up into his throat. He’s ready to rush over when Gon rolls onto his hands and knees, breathing heavily. Killua watches, analyzing and critical. Gon pushes himself back up with a grunt.
“That all you got?” asks Gon, jogging back. He stares Killua down with optimistic eagerness.
Killua runs a hand through his hair, and the now-familiar dull peal of Godspeed activating vibrates through his chest. Killua narrows his eyes. Gon widens his, then his mouth hardens into a determined line.
Gon manages to begin a dive out of the way this time, but only barely. Killua slides a hand up to the back of his head. His other palm lands on Gon’s chest, over his heart. He takes advantage of Gon’s unstable stance, all of his weight on one leg, and drives him down towards the floor.
The surge starts in Killua’s core. It races down his arm, cutting through the air in flashing arcs, sizzling and wicked.
Gon’s eyes shoot wide and his mouth opens soundlessly. His back slams into the ground, and it’s only Killua’s hand supporting his neck that saves him from whiplash.
The electricity blinks off, as easy as flipping a switch. Killua’s bangs fall back down over his forehead. Gon closes his eyes and gasps before coughing hard.
Killua squats beside him.
It’s a few more moments before Gon can muster the energy to sit back up.
“Told you,” says Killua, impassively.
Gon laughs, but it turns into a wheeze. “No way,” he mutters, wiping tears out of his eyes with the heels of his palms. “We’re not done.”
“Gon.”
“I can—”
“It’s not about you,” says Killua, laughing breathlessly at how dense Gon could be sometimes. He stands up and holds out a hand. Gon eyes it suspiciously, and frowns up at Killua before offering his hand. “I’m done, okay?”
Gon pouts as Killua steadies him on his feet. “It’s hardly been five minutes.”
“These clocks run slow,” says Killua, walking back over to the wall where he left his jacket.
Gon stays where he’s planted and crosses his arms. “I’m fine, Killua.”
“I know. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
Gon is quiet for a moment, and then there’s the patter of him running across the ring to catch back up.
“Killua, come on. I’m not even warmed up.”
“Neither am I.”
Gon huffs with frustration, his voice getting louder. “That wasn’t a training session, Killua, that was hardly anything.”
Killua picks up his jacket and shrugs it over his shoulders without putting his arms through the sleeves. He turns to look Gon, who has his hands on his hips, leaning forward indignantly.
He’s as determined as he was when they were twelve and stupid. Killua’s heart tugs, and for a moment he considers letting Gon convince him to try again. There’s no use in pretending, though.
“You can’t use Nen, Gon. There’s no point in doing training with Nen when you can’t use it. It isn’t helpful to either of us.”
“If I’m going to be travelling with you again, I need to—”
“Let Killua, who is handsome and wonderful and smart, handle the fighting. Yes, you do.”
Gon follows as Killua strides out into the hallway. It’s Bisky’s house; they’re all gathered for Wing’s birthday, supposedly. The walls are wooden paneled and decorated with a lifetime’s worth of collected treasures. Gilded plates and oil paintings surround them as they walk to the courtyard.
“Maybe I should just stay home until—”
“So you want us to wait for another seven—”
“You don’t have to wait, you can go do—”
“I want to go with—”
“I’m holding you back.”
At that, Killua freezes, and turns to look up at Gon.
Gon blushes, and his eyes widen as he realizes the mountain he’s stubbed his toe against.
“You know I want you here, right?”
“You say that now, but—”
Gon falls silent as Killua cups his cheeks, perhaps a little harder than strictly necessitated. Gon’s face smushes together and he closes his eyes, resigning himself to his fate.
“I’m trying to tell you you don’t have to worry about all this, okay? I know you’re—” stubbornly impatient “—frustrated, but me throwing you around for two hours isn’t going to solve anything.”
Gon opens one eye and Killua releases his hold. He lets his hands slide down to Gon’s shoulders.
The air between them is still and uncharged. Gon has been weathered calm by years on the sea; his quiets are now invitations rather than shoddy defenses, and the admiration in his eyes doesn’t scare Killua anymore.
“You’ve changed, you know?” says Gon.
Killua raises an eyebrow and starts walking again. Gon follows.
“I mean. I knew you weren’t still sixteen, but it’s still… sometimes you talk and I remember there’s a whole new Killua I have to get to know.”
“A change for the better, I hope.”
“Oh no, not at all,” says Gon. Killua glares at him. “Twelve year old Killua was definitely your peak. The wheels? Irresistible.”
Killua squacks a laugh into his hand and Gon glows.
Outside, Alluka shrieks, followed by a loud shout from Zushi. The two of them look up, and catch a flash of him running past the window, mud up to his knees.
“C’mon,” says Killua. “Let's go see how frog catching is going.”