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Gon has a running tally of the times Killua has stopped and stared at a Chocorobo dispensing machine, marked down its location while they are on a job, and then returned later that night with his arms full of the chocolatey goodies. The headlines of the local paper the next morning always read something along the lines of “Chocorobo Meltdown!” with a picture of an absolutely destroyed piece of metal that once was a case full of Chocorobos. Killua will always avoid Gon’s eyes or change the subject if Gon brings it up and by this point in time, the tally is, by Gon’s standards, way too high. One broken machine, even two, he could understand if Killua was starving or desperate for a chocolate fix, but 72 instances in 2 months? With all of the Chocorobos gone before Killua struck again? That’s waaaayyy too much chocolate for one person and Gon’s starting to understand that for all that Killua mocks his siblings for their obsessions, Chocorobos are Killua’s own obsession. One that needs interfering in, Gon thinks grimly as he watches Killua eye up another machine as they walk through town on their way to scope out the art museum which had hired them for tonight.
Killua hasn’t put on weight, or even gotten acne, two things Gon could easily point out as the downside to eating as much chocolate as Killua does, but Killua has been mentioning his stomach feeling…off, without clarifying what that means, and that his teeth feel a little gritty. Unfortunately, when Gon tries to bring up the overconsumption of chocolate as a possible, probable even, source for both, Killua glares at Gon and hisses.
“Chocorobos are not the issue,” he growls, then stalks off, eyes greedily searching for his next prey.
Gon calls Leorio and Kurapika that night and asks for advice.
“Take him somewhere that has no Chocorobos in sight,” Kurapika says once he hears. “Get him out of the cities and towns and into the wild areas. It’s been a while since you guys took a job that suits your tastes, Gon, instead of Killua’s. Why don’t you ask to pick the next one?”
“Kurapika’s right on this one, Gon,” Leorio chimes in. “But do you think, as a stopgap measure, you can convince him to stop targeting the machines by buying him a small bag or two when you go through town?”
Gon groans. “I’ve tried. He thanks me, eyes alight, and then still goes after the machines. He’s like a dog with a bone.”
“More like a cat with a mouse, I would think,” Leorio says chuckling. “Didn’t you say that he practically pounced on that one machine the day you tailed him?”
Gon smiles ruefully as he remembers that day. Killua had snuck out at one in the morning, slipping silently down the streets, sticking to the shadows until he had reached his target. Then he fiddled with the mechanisms of the dispensary, huffed when he had no luck, and then, looking first to his left, then to his right, he took a step back into a low crouch and sprung at the machine, his nails as sharp as claws. Within two seconds he had wrenched the metal apart so that he could scoop his loot out into his backpack. “Yes,” Gon replies, “it was catlike.”
Then he thanks them for their advice and tries to lure Killua away from the city the next day. It takes a few tries, but eventually they leave, Killua looking sadly over his shoulder when they round the last street in sight of the shops. And for a while everything is fine— they go on missions out in the wild, hunting down lost artifacts and exploring new areas, but then they return to the city and within minutes of entering the shopping district, Killua has another Chocorobo dispensary victim.
That night Gon receives a text from an unknown number which cryptically says, “Tell Killua: July 1992. He’ll understand.”
So the next time Killua raids a Chocorobo machine, Gon turns to look at him the next morning, points to the latest news article about his thievery, and says, “So. I have it on good authority that this has happened before.”
Killua refuses to meet Gon’s eyes. Gon continues.
“Good authority being that I’ve followed you, Killua. I know it’s you behind all the Chocorobo attacks, and well, I’m concerned.”
Here Killua looks up at Gon a bit petulantly, but before he can speak, Gon adds, “I mean, after what I’ve been told about July 1992…” he trails off and Killua’s face drastically pales.
“…I’ll stop,” Killua whispers, shoulders shaking. Then he glares at Gon. “You didn’t have to bring that up you know.”
Gon winces and wishes whichever of Killua’s siblings had texted him, his money was on Illumi but one could never tell with the Zoldycks, had actually told him what had happened in July of 1992. “I know,” Gon says, trying to cover for his lack of knowledge, “but—“
“But you don’t,” Killua whispers fiercely, understanding lighting in his eyes. He puffs up in rage only to deflate seconds later. “Illumi must have told you to say that, didn’t he.”
Gon grins ruefully and scratches the back of his head. “I, um, don’t actually know who it was.”
Killua groans and rolls his eyes. “It was probably Illumi. Only he and Milluki would have remembered that or thought to have brought it up.” He looks at Gon pointedly and says, “July 1992 I ate so many chocolates that I couldn’t keep regular food down because my stomach rebelled against me and then I ended up with ten cavities and wasn’t allowed to eat sweets for the next five years. July 1992,” he says with a shudder, “was my fourth birthday and Illumi made me swear never to let it get that bad again or else he would come attend to me personally. Never again, Gon,” he says eyes staring off into the distance at some remembered horror of Illumi looking after him while he was sick. “Never again.”
So Killua backs off of the sweets and Chocorobo attacks. He still enjoys them and will still sometimes eye the machines like they’re prey, but he doesn’t descend on them like they’re his personal enemies and tear them to pieces anymore either. Thankfully.