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He didn’t even stop long enough to hear you slide onto the floor with a thud. His feet carried him up the stairs on instinct, feeling like the house was too small and that he needed the walls between himself and the one thing he couldn’t swallow down.
Instead, he let Gon’s room swallow him whole. Salt air. The boyish musk. That faint ocean dampness clinging to everything on the damned island.
None of it helped him whatsoever.
Killua slammed the door behind him and leaned his back against it, staring at nothing while his heart did something evil inside his chest. He could still feel it. Your wrist in his hand, your soft skin molding under his fingertips. Repulsion rolled off of him in waves.
The electricity had been immediate, sharp as biting into lightning… and then the rush. The feeling of intense pleasure that filled his brain with serotonin, that made his grip tighten before he could process it. Sweet enough that his body leaned toward it. Disgusting enough that he wanted to tear his own hand off afterward.
He swallowed hard, jaw tight, like he could force it all back down.
He could not.
His mind raced, catching on the stupid details. The way you trembled like you were trying to take up less space. The way your breath hitched as he came closer. The way tears slipped down your cheeks when you looked up at him, leaving glittering trails of wetness.
Glittering.
Fuck. He hated himself for even thinking that word.
And then there was the scent. The faintly clean traces of lavender in your hair. It wasn’t even yours technically. It was Mito’s shampoo, soaked into towels and bedding and the whole house. But it had been there on your skin when he grabbed you, mixed with salt air and panic, and now his brain would not shut up about it like it was something that mattered. Killua felt sick.
He pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes until it ached. He had been trained to ignore his body. To make it obey him, To make his face blank and his breathing steady no matter what churned inside him.
So why did his body react like that?
Why did it feel like something tugged at him sharply from the inside, pulling him towards you? As if he had taken the bait, and was now hooked on you. A hook that was forcibly placed inside of him.
Illumi’s expressionless face flashed in his mind before he could stop it and he flinched involuntarily. That invisible pressure Illumi wore like a perfume, the way it made Killua’s mind blank and his thoughts feel like they were not his own. Killua gritted his teeth. No. He wasn’t doing this again. He was his own person now, free from the Zoldyck mold. Free from his brother's control.
But his instincts would not let it go. They itched beneath his skin frantically, telling him something was off about everything. Not just with himself, but with Gon too.
Because Gon had been acting strange around you for days. Anyone with eyes could see it, even if Gon pretended he couldn’t. The hovering. The constant excuses. The way Gon’s attention snapped to you like a magnet, every time you moved, every time you spoke, every time you even looked like you might walk toward the door.
Gon wasn’t like that. Gon was stubborn, he was intense, he would get fixated on things, sure, but not like this. Not with that urgency that made it feel like the world would end if you stepped out of sight. That he would end if you left him.
Killua despised you for it. And he wasn’t stupid. This obviously wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t figure out why. He thought it might’ve been Nen, some kind of manipulator tactic like Illumi’s, but even a blind man could tell that you were the farthest thing from a Nen master. Your aura was seeping out of you just like how every other untrained person was, so he was completely lost. But how else could you have landed completely unhurt when you fell in the ocean?
There was also another reason sitting behind his heart that he refused to name.
Gon was supposed to be his friend.
Not in a gross way. But rather in a way he would never admit. He was jealous. Gon, who was his first friend, his only real friend. And if Gon had someone else, then Killua would be on the sidelines. He hated that thought so much he almost laughed.
Almost.
He hated you for stepping into their space. Hate, hate, hate.
Still, hate didn't explain the pull he felt- feels. Didn’t explain why his hand trembled as he let go, or why he kept remembering your lashes heavy with tears.
Killua’s throat tightened with revulsion yet his heart continued racing.
.
The next hour passed like he was underwater. Painfully, as his mind ran in circles around your wrist and the sickening sweetness that followed. He could hear you moving slowly downstairs, splashing water on your face. Trying to hide the puffiness of your eyes he presumed. The light fondness he felt when he pictured that was repulsive.
Then later, the front door opened and Gon’s voice flooded the house with excitement.
“I got it!”
Joystation.
Killua heard the thud of Gon’s shoes as he kicked them off too quickly, the familiar sound of his steps has he quickly pulled you upstairs with him. This daze was probably also why he didn’t notice how your sleeve had ridden up on your arm, how the light Gon’s eyes dampened into the shadows, and how as soon as he blinked it was gone. And how despite that, he said nothing and only silently guided you to the bed.
Instead, what he did notice was how you flinched when he met your eye. Then the guilt that consumed him when he saw the blooming bruises on your wrist, or your now red eyes that wouldn’t fade no matter how you tried to hide it. Killua forced his face into neutrality.
He only knelt besides Gon and helped connect the Joystation, feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight as it seeped into the room. He ignored the way you would pause whenever he spoke, ignored how you shrank into the corner whenever he raised his hand.
Eventually the answer sharpened into something real.
“It’s only a rumor,” Killua stated, repeating what Milluki had told him on the phone, “but the idea is that someone will be distributing dozens of copies of Greed island at the auction.”
Gon’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe that someone is Ging!”
“Yeah.” Killua nodded, a strained smile on his face, “that only makes the rumor more credible.”
The smile sat on his face like something foreign, stretched and wrong, as if his muscles were remembering an expression without the feeling attached. Gon did not notice. Or maybe he did, and simply did not care, because Gon had already turned back to the card, already spinning possibilities in his head like they were sunlight.
“Yorknew,” Gon said, voice bright with a determined smile. He tapped the edge of the game card against his palm. “We’ll need a crazy amount of money to buy it. I guess we were always destined to go to Yorknew.”
Killua nodded again and his gaze flicked to your corner of the room without permission. You were sitting with your shoulders hunched, hands curled into your sleeves, eyes darting to the door every few seconds like a mouse in a fox's den. You looked smaller than you had any right to look.
A stupid pull tightened in Killua’s chest again. An urge to fix it, to do anything for you.
His stomach turned.
He tore his eyes away and focused on the Joystation, on the cables, on the screen.
From the corner of his eye, Killua watched you shrink when Gon took a step closer, even though he did not touch you. “Stay here, [Name]. Me and Killua need to step out for a little while.”
Then Gon turned back to Killua. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s talk outside.”
Killua followed, he saw how Gon smiled without it reaching his eyes.
And he did not look at you when he left. Because if he did, he might have done something stupid. And only when the cold air hit his face outside did he realize what he had given you. A moment alone. A chance.
He could not tell if that made him feel relieved or terrified, and he hated himself for it.
.
You had picked at the sheets as they talked about the game, feeling the edges of the fabric begin to fray under your nails. You realized it was childish to ruin his things but it was truly the only form of revenge you could afford without setting a death spell on yourself. Besides, you needed to vent your frustration in some way or you would’ve gone insane.
Sleeping on Gon’s bed made you want to crawl out of your skin. His blankets that smelled so uniquely him- like the warm sun and the woods- the scent that clung to you even after you scrubbed yourself raw in the shower. You hated it. You don’t have much of a choice, though, unless you wanted to curl like an animal on the hardwood floor.
You sat on the bed while they were distracted enough on Greed Island that you could felt like you breathe for once. Intently, you listened through the fog of your anxiety and caught just enough to understand one thing.
They were leaving. Yorknew. An auction with the game Gon’s dad left him.
Then, finally, Gon stood and asked Killua to talk outside. He did not look at you when he left. Killua did not either.
The door clicked shut.
Your heart slammed into your ribs.
Alone.
You heard them argue outside in the darkness of the night, voices rising sharply. Closer to yelling. It wasn’t possible to hear every word through the walls and wind, but pieces slipped through.
Killua’s voice cut first, tight and harsh. “You’re not bringing her.”
Gon’s voice followed, bright in tone but wrong underneath it. “Why not?”
“Because she’s a problem,” Killua snapped. “You’re acting like you can’t even breathe unless she’s in the room.”
A heavy pause followed
Then Gon, too calm. “She’s coming with us.”
“She wants to go home,” Killua said, like he was trying to pound logic into Gon’s skull. “Let her leave.”
Silence.
When Gon spoke again, his voice was still gentle.
“She doesn’t remember anything,” Gon said. “She’s scared. She’s hurt. She stays with us until we get to Yorknew. Then we figure it out.”
Killua’s tone sharpened into something almost furious. “That’s not helping her. That’s keeping her!”
Gon’s voice dropped, just slightly, just enough that her skin crawled. “I’m helping her.”
Killua said something you could not hear, too fast. Then louder, clearer, like he wanted the house to listen.
“She’s not yours.”
Her stomach clenched.
Silence followed.
Then Gon laughed. It was short, breathy, almost cheerful.
“Of course not,” Gon said, voice sweet. “That’s why she’s coming with us. So nothing happens to her.”
He was such a fucking liar. Your mouth went dry and stared at the door until the edges of the room blurred, then forced yourself to move before you lost the nerve.
If you thought, you froze.
So you did not think.
You threw your feet and hit the floor, sliding your hand along the wall as you crossed the room silently. Your fingers trembled so badly you curled them into your sleeve.
Outside, the argument flared again.
Killua. “You don’t even hear yourself!”
“Killua, stop it.”
Downstairs, a chair creaked in the kitchen. A pot clinked. Normal sounds that felt wrong against the knife edge of their voices.
Your heart pounded harder.
Now.
You slipped out of Gon’s room and into the hall, moving like you were made of glass. Each floorboard looked like a trap. So you chose your steps carefully, placing your feet where the wood looked like it wouldn’t creak.
You reached the top of the stairs and paused, listening.
Outside, Killua’s voice spiked. “You’re not thinking.”
Gon’s reply came quickly, clipped. “I am thinking.”
Killua, lower now, dangerous. “Then why are you watching her like that?”
Silence again. Then Gon, softer, as if he were soothing. “Because she needs me.”
You force yourself down the stairs.
Mito stood at the stove, ladle in hand, shoulders tense. Her brows were furrowed in a way that made her look older than she had all week. She was listening to the argument, jaw tight like she was deciding whether to intervene.
When she noticed the girl in the doorway, her expression softened immediately.
“Hey, [Name],” Mito said gently. “Are you alright?”
Your mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. The words sitting in your throat like stones.
Mito turned fully, concern sharpening. “What is it?”
Your hands clenched around your sleeve feeling your wrist ache where the bruise sat hidden beneath the fabric.
You swallowed.
“I need to leave,” you pleaded, voice cracking on the second word. “Please, believe me. I don’t remember anything, but I can’t stay here. I can’t.”
Mito went deathly still.
Outside, a shout flared, then dulled into rapid words again. The argument was moving farther behind the house, as if the boys had stepped deeper into the yard.
Mito’s eyes flicked to the back window, then back to your shivering form. “Why?”
Your hands shook and forced yourself to lift your sleeve just enough to show the bruise. Not all of it. Just enough that it was undeniable.
Mito’s hand lifted to cover her mouth.
It was worse than you remembered. The purple crawling up like a prisoner band around your arm. Tears threatened you, hot and immediate, but you blinked hard, refusing to let them fall. You couldn’t afford to cry right now.
“He tried to hurt me,” you whispered. “I think he stopped because Gon was gonna come back, but I don’t think’ll stay stopped. And Gon keeps me trapped here. He won’t let me talk to anyone. He locks things. He watches me constantly.”
Outside, Gon’s voice rose again, louder now. “She’s coming with us, Killua.”
Killua’s response was sharper, nearly a hiss. “[Name] doesn’t want to.”
Mito’s eyes flashed.
She set her ladle down with careful force, like she was placing a weapon she did not trust herself to hold and took a steadying breath.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay?” You repeated.
Mito moved at once. Efficient. No wasted motion. She reached for a small bag hanging on a hook by the pantry and shoved it into your trembling hands.
“We don’t have time,” Mito said lowly. “If they come back in here and see you packing, it becomes a fight in my kitchen. I’m not letting it become that.”
Your fingers tightened around the bag. “Where do I go?”
Mito opened a cabinet, pulled out toiletries, and stuffed them in. Grabbed a clean shirt from a laundry basket, then another. Practical things.
“There’s a cargo ship that leaves tonight,” Mito said. “Supply run. I don’t know the destination but it’s a big city. You’ll tell him I sent you.”
Your chest heaved and you could practically taste the freedom.
Mito shoved the last items into the bag and zipped it. Her hands stayed steady. Her face did not.
Mito grabbed your shoulders so you could look at her properly.
“Listen,” Mito said. “Leave through the front. Stay close to the trees. Do not take the main path. If you hear them, do not stop. Do you understand?”
You nodded, tears welling despite yourself. “Why are you helping me?”
Her eyes widened slightly before creasing softly as she smiled.
“Because you asked,” Mito said. “And because you’re scared. And because that bruise did not happen by itself.”
God. Your composure broke. A small, ugly sound escaped you before you could choke it down. So this was what family felt like.
Mito squeezed your shoulders once, firmly. “Go.”
So you clutched the bag to your chest and moved.
Wasting no time, you push open the door as quietly as you could and sprint as fast as you can. You could see the dock and the glittering ocean from the house so you choose to hit it at an angle to avoid being spotted from the front of the house. In the dark line of trees, you ran, ducking under branches, breath fogging up the air in front of you. Everything ached and burned, your muscles unused to this strenuous exercise, but you ran barely feeling your feet underneath you, pumped full of adrenaline.
Wheezing, you dash towards the lights of the dock, heart pounding so violently that you feel it in your throat. Sweat dripped down from your forehead, working to blind you, and every single shadow leapt at you like someone reaching to grab you.
Finally dock lanterns appeared ahead, small pools of warm light puncturing the dark
The cargo ship rocked at the edge of the dock, larger than you expected, its hull looming. Men moved on deck. Ropes creaked. The whole ship groaned like it was already impatient to leave.
You found the captain near the gangplank, a broad shouldered man with a weathered face. He looked up when you approached, gaze flicking over your bag, your tangled hair, your shaking hands.
Your mouth barely worked with the strain of running.
“Mito,” you rasped. “Mito sent me.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. He looked you over once more, slower this time. His gaze landed on your bruised wrist.
Then he jerked his chin.
“Get on,” he said.
Your knees almost buckled with relief.
You climbed the gangplank, fingers locking around the railing. The deck was cold beneath your feet and you realize that you didn’t even have the time to slip on your shoes. Taking in a deep shuddering breath, you let yourself be comforted by the smell of the ocean for the first time.
The ship lurched.
Not much. Just enough to make the ropes creak and the water shift.
It was moving.
You let out a sound that might have been a laugh if it didn’t crack halfway into a sob. Pressing your knuckles to your mouth, you bite down on them hard enough to keep yourself from making noise.
You couldn’t cry yet…Not until the shoreline is far enough away.
Then a shout cut through the night and your blood turned to ice.
It was distant, like someone had thrown it across the dock and hit you anyway. You snapped your head toward the shore, fingers whitening around the railing.
Your eyes twitched as you let out a laugh tinted with hysteria.
“Fuck me.”
A figure tore out of the darkness like it had been waiting there the whole time.
Gon.
Hair wild, breathing hard enough that his chest visibly heaved even from this distance. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even trying to.
For a split second, you thought he looked like a completely different person. Like the bright boy who fed you soup and tucked blankets around your shoulders obsessively had been peeled away, leaving something dark and raw underneath.
His eyes swept the dock, then snapped to the ship.
Then you locked eyes.
Gon vaulted onto a lower section of the dock, closer to the water, moving too fast to be normal. His body looked weightless, as if the distance between him and the ship was something he could simply decide not to respect. And you knew he could make the jump too with his superhuman strength.
Killua followed him into the light, a step behind. He moved differently. Sharp. Controlled. But his head was turned the same way, eyes tracking the ship
Gon shouted again, voice tearing through the wind.
You couldn’t catch every word. The ocean ate pieces of it. But you heard your name.
And then you heard something worse.
“Wait!” Gon called, voice cracking on the edge of it. “Wait [Name], don’t go like that!”
Like that.
Without him.
You stumbled backward from the railing, heart hammering, the deck was suddenly too exposed. You pressed herself near stacked cargo crates, your instincts screaming at you to get out of sight.
The captain barked orders. Men moved faster. Rope scraped. The ship creaked as it pulled further away.
Gon reached the dock’s edge and froze for half a heartbeat, eyes darting between the widening gap and your face like his brain was trying to calculate the world into something he could control.
Then he leaned forward, muscles tensing.
He was going to jump.
The realization hit you like a slap. He wasn’t trying to stop you from leaving Aunt Mito’s house or even Whale Island. He was trying to follow you. To keep you within reach. To make sure you didn’t get away from him even if you crossed an ocean.
Then Killua moved, the white of his hair flashing in the moonlight.
He grabbed Gon’s arm and yanked him back hard enough that Gon stumbled, boots scraping concrete. Killua’s mouth moved, words sharp and urgent, but the wind stole them.
Gon twisted, yanking his arm free.
Killua grabbed him again.
This time Gon shoved him off. Not with full force. Not like he was trying to hurt him. Like Killua was an obstacle. Like he was something in the way.
Gon’s head snapped back toward the ship.
Toward you.
His face was open in a way that made your skin crawl.
It wasn’t anger or sadness you saw on him.
It was need.
Like he couldn’t understand why you would run when he had been so good, so gentle, so careful. Like he couldn’t understand why you would choose the unknown over staying in the place he had made for you. Like you were the very air he breathed.
He shouted again, louder this time, voice strained.
“You’re coming with us!” Gon called. “We’re going to Yorknew! You can come with us!”
Your mouth dropped open at his fucking audacity. You wanted to punch him square in the jaw, but you couldn’t, because the ship lurched again, stronger. Their figures were growing smaller with the distance.
Gon took another step forward.
Killua stepped in front of him and blocked him.
They argued right there at the edge of the dock, voices rising, bodies tight with tension. Killua’s hands were up like he was trying to hold back a wild animal. Gon’s hands clenched and unclenched like he couldn’t decide whether to push past him or drag him out of the way.
You watched Gon’s gaze flick to Killua for a split second.
Impatient.
Then back to you again, immediate, consuming. The world narrowed down to that look.
…So you threw him the middle finger.
For a heartbeat, Gon looked hurt by it. Like your defiance did not fit anywhere in his head, like it cracked something he had been holding together with that bright, innocent smile. His mouth parted slightly. His eyes went wide, confused, almost broken.
Then his expression changed.
His gaze sharpened, tight and hungry, like you had just proven you were real and now he knew could not stand the idea of losing you. You could no longer make out their expressions. Their bodies were only silhouettes in lantern light, two figures at the edge of the dock.
But you still saw it.
Killua turned his head, white hair catching your eye just once, and his sharp cat eyes found you across the water.
It was not anger but it was a look that made your stomach drop anyway. Quiet. Conflicted. Pulling at you like a hand you could not feel. Then he looked away, jaw tightening, and the dock shrank into darkness as the ocean carried you farther and farther out.
MC curse works by the time the other person touches her, the amount of exposed skin in contact, and the strength of the person's willpower! When Gon saved her from drowning, they were in contact skin to skin for a looong time, so he is a lot more affected by her despite his willpower. Killua, on the other hand, only touched her for a few seconds on the wrist.
Curse develops from a small, pure kind of pull towards obsessive tendencies- though how they express it depends on the person.
The week that followed was quiet in the way an animal would freeze when it realizes they’re being watched.
At first, you told yourself it was just from the shock. The lingering pain. The fog of whatever had happened to you before you woke up in that bed. Your injuries were healing nicely after Aunt Mito kindly helped you patch them up in the living room, her practiced hands after years with Gon, and a calm voice that almost led you to believe that everything was normal.
“Oh, you’re finally awake,” she had said the morning after, stepping into the room, hands holding a medical kit. She smelled like soup and clean laundry, like someone who knew how to make a house feel safe. “Thank goodness. Gon told me you scared him half to death.” It felt so normal.
You almost believed it.
Until you looked up and saw him.
Killua had sat across the room, quietly, startling blue eyes fixed on you with a coldness that made your throat constrict. He was devastatingly attractive, you weren’t able to clearly comprehend that last night with how terrified you were, but you saw it now. The way his white hair caught the light, and how his eyes narrowed like a cat's. But none of that matters when all you wanted to do was run away from him. You already knew he was pissed from how he had to sleep in the living room with Gon since they had to surrender the room to you.
However, the deadly look he gave you was much more than that. His glare told you bright and clear, that you being here was a complete mistake, and that he wished you hadn’t survived the night.
This had completely contrasted Gon when he barreled into the room like sunlight.
“Good morning, [Name]!”
Your shoulders had jerked at how bright he sounded, how he said your name, like he’d been waiting all night to use it again. Before you could even reply, the questions flooded out, one after another.
Did you sleep okay? Does your head still hurt? Are you hungry? Do you feel dizzy? Do you… remember anything?
You answered warily while Aunt Mito worked on your injuries, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to ignore the way he hovered too close, like the space between you, however small, was something he didn’t know how to tolerate. It made your skin prickle, with the same quiet unease you’d felt the moment he caught you. You remembered how he’d practically guided you back to bed the night before after giving you some of Mito’s clothes to wear. It was all reassurance and gentle hands, ignoring how every time you tried to push past him toward the door he’d had another excuse ready.
Not yet. You’re hurt. Later. Rest.
You told yourself you were imagining it. That you were overreacting. That the creak of the floorboards and the way the house seemed to hush whenever you moved only felt louder because you were scared.
But fear didn’t explain the way Killua’s gaze sharpened every time Gon got too close.
And it didn’t explain the way Gon never seemed to notice he was doing it at all.
It started small.
A cup of water placed into your hands before you could ask for it. A blanket tucked tighter around your shoulders even when you didn’t feel cold. A chair pulled out for you at the table like you might collapse if you stood too long. Little things that could have been kindness if they hadn’t happened with such urgency, as if he couldn’t stand the idea of you being out of his reach for even a second.
The worst part: he smiled the whole time.
So bright. Innocent. Like a boy excited about a new friend.
It drove you absolutely crazy, because logically, wasn’t this what you’ve always wanted? Someone always there for you, a person for yourself. It should’ve been everything you desired.
Instead it made your skin crawl.
Because instinctively you knew it was different. His actions were urgent. Possessive in a way he never acknowledged. It was like the moment you slipped out of his sight, something in him panicked and had to pull you back in again. You wouldn’t go as far as to call it love—honestly, you weren’t sure you knew what that was supposed to feel like—but this obsessive hovering over your every need, every want, could almost convince you of it. And it scared you. Because this concept was so foreign and the fact was that you’ve only known them for less than a week.
And he was already acting like you belonged here.
You couldn’t even tell if you were overreacting or if Aunt Mito was just blind.
Once she finished patching you up on the first day, you had tried to sit up, tried to grab onto that normalcy like a lifeline.
“Ma’am,” you started, voice hoarse. “I need to go. I don’t know where I am and I can’t remember anything and I think-”
Gon had moved before you could finish. Not aggressively or forcefully. He simply stepped into the space between you and her with that same easy smile.
“She’s still dizzy,” Gon said quickly. “Aunt Mito, can you help her rest first? She almost fainted again.”
You blinked, stunned by how smoothly he spoke over you. Mito’s face creased with concern. “Oh honey, of course. Don’t worry, you can tell me everything when you feel better.”
You opened your mouth again.
Gon placed a cup of water he was holding a little closer to your lips, coaxing, almost playful. “Drink first, [Name]. It’ll help with your confusion.”
Your fingers brushed his as he placed it in your hands.Skin on skin for the briefest moment. A faint tingle sparked through your fingertips. Not painful, not exactly, but strange enough to make your breath hitch.
Gon went still.
His gaze flicked down to your hands like he hadn’t expected to feel anything at all. Then the stillness broke, and he smiled even wider, almost laughing, like he’d just remembered he was supposed to act normal.
“There,” he said gently, as if you hadn’t noticed the pause. “See. Better already.”
You stared at him.
He looked so harmless and it made it so much worse.
Across the kitchen, Killua watched.
He did not smile.
✦
Over the next few days, you learned the shape of the house in the way a trapped animal learns the shape of a cage.
It was not small. It was not grimy or cruel. It was filled with sunlit corners and a familiar sort of clutter. A folded stack of dish towels. Fishing gear leaned against a wall. A framed photo of a younger Gon, grinning too wide, holding a fish slippery and triumphant.
It should have made you feel calmer. Instead, it made you feel insane. Because every time you tried to step toward the front door, Gon appeared.
“Oh, you’re up,” he would say, cheerful, stepping into your path with easy timing. “Did you eat? Aunt Mito made breakfast.”
Or, “Wait, where are you going? The floor outside is kinda slippery since it rained last night.” Or, “We should go together. You’re still hurt.”
Always together. Always inside the house.
And whenever you looked past him toward the road that led away from the house, toward the faint hint of civilization beyond the trees, he would tilt his head and smile like he didn’t understand why you would want anything else.
“You can leave when you feel better,” he promised.
You did not believe him.
You kept trying anyway.
One afternoon you found Mito in the kitchen alone, humming as she stirred something in a pot. The sunlight made her look softer, orange hair almost golden, and the sight of her steadiness made your chest ache.
You stepped closer, heart hammering. “Aunt Mito, can I talk to you?”
She turned, smiling. “Of course. How are you feeling today?”
You swallowed. Your hands trembled at your sides. “I need help. I don’t remember anything and I need to go home. I need to call someone.”
Mito’s smile faltered, concern knitting her brows. “Oh honey, of course we can”
“She’s still confused,” Gon said from behind you.
You spun.
He stood in the doorway with a basket of laundry in his arms, as if he’d been there the whole time, Killua trailing behind like a shadow. Gon’s expression was bright, almost apologetic, like he didn’t mean to interrupt.
But his eyes were fixed on you.
Not Mito.
You.
“I’m not confused,” you snapped, voice sharp with desperation. “I know I want to leave.”
Gon blinked. For a second, something unreadable flickered behind his eyes, like a muscle twitch you weren’t supposed to see.
Then he smiled again.
“Yeah,” he said gently. “I know. But you’re still weak. Let’s talk later, okay?”
He stepped closer.
You took a step back on instinct.
He reached out with one hand and touched your shoulder.
Another tiny spark, like static on dry skin.
Gon’s breath caught.
His other hand tightened on the laundry basket, white knuckled for a heartbeat, and his eyes went unfocused for half a second, like something warm and dizzy rolled through him. Pleasure, quick and sharp, crossing his expression before he could hide it.
Then he blinked hard and laughed, too light.
“Sorry,” he said, as if embarrassed by nothing at all. “Come on. I’ll show you the ocean. It’ll make you feel better.”
The ocean.
He said it like it was a gift.
Like it wasn’t also a boundary.
Mito watched the exchange with a fondness that made your stomach sink.
“He really likes you,” she said quietly, more to herself than to you. “He hasn’t had a new friend besides Killua in a while.”
Your throat tightened. You wanted to say, he’s not being friendly. You wanted to say, please listen to me. But Gon’s hand appeared on your elbow, gentle and insistent, steering you away before you could open your mouth again.
“Let’s go,” he said, bright. “Aunt Mito, we’ll be back soon.”
You looked over your shoulder as he guided you out, trying to catch her eyes, trying to beg without words.
Mito only smiled and waved.
✦
He did show you the ocean.
He showed you everything on the island that felt like it belonged to him.
The shoreline where the sand was soft and pale. The rocks where the tide pooled into little shining mirrors. The places where crabs hid and little fish flickered beneath the surface.
He talked the entire time, voice full of easy excitement, pointing out shells, telling stories about things he did as a kid. He told you about his dad, how he left to become a hunter. His dream of finding him. Becoming a great hunter.
You didn’t understand a thing he said, but you tried to enjoy it.
You tried to breathe.
It would have been beautiful if you weren’t constantly aware of the way he kept you angled away from the paths that led toward town.
If you weren’t constantly aware that whenever someone’s voice drifted faintly from a distance, Gon would step a little closer to you.If you weren’t constantly aware that he found excuses to touch you, like he couldn’t stop himself.
A hand at your back when you stepped over a rock.Fingers around your wrist when you swayed. His palm on your forehead, checking if you were warm, lingering one second too long. Every time, the same pattern. A pause. A breath hitch. A flicker of something sweet crossing his face before he plastered his smile back on. As if he didn’t understand what he was feeling, only that he wanted it again. And the longer he touched you, the worse it got. Not obvious. Not like he suddenly turned into a different person.
More like he forgot to look away.
More like he forgot to listen when Killua spoke.
More like he started making decisions around you without even realizing he was doing it.
Killua noticed.
Killua always noticed.
“You’re babysitting,” Killua snapped one morning when Gon refused to go fishing with him. “Since when do you care about babysitting?”
Gon barely looked up. “She can’t be alone yet.”
“She’s fine,” Killua said, eyes cutting to you sharply. “She can walk. She can talk. She can leave.”
Gon’s smile stayed in place, but the air changed.
“No,” he said.
The single word was quiet. Flat.
Killua blinked as if he hadn’t heard right.
Then his annoyance flared into something darker. “No what?”
Gon’s eyes lifted to meet his. His expression stayed innocent, still bright, still Gon.
But his gaze didn’t budge.
“She’s not leaving yet,” he said, and then he added quickly, like he was fixing a mistake, “Until she feels better.”
Killua stared at him.
You had never seen him look genuinely rattled before, but something in his face tightened, jaw clenching like it hurt.
“This is stupid,” Killua muttered, voice sharp. “You’re being stupid.”
Gon laughed like it was a joke. “I’m not.”
Killua’s eyes slid to you again, cold and simmering. “This is because of her.”
Your stomach turned.
You tried to speak but it came out as a squeak. “I didn’t-”
Killua cut you off with a glare and Gon stepped closer to you without thinking, shoulder nearly brushing yours.
“Hey,” Gon said lightly, like he was calming a tense dog. “Don’t be mean.”
Killua’s hands curled into fists.
You saw the moment the rift began, thin as a hairline crack, but real.
✦
The days passed.
A week, maybe.
Time blurred into meals and restless sleep and careful, suffocating outings that always ended before you reached anyone else.
You kept trying to talk to Mito. Gon kept redirecting you. You kept trying to get to the road. Gon kept smiling and offering a different route, a different plan, a different distraction.
Killua’s anger grew sharper with each day.
It began as annoyance.Then it became resentment.Then it became something that looked too much like hatred. He started causing trouble in small ways first. He “accidentally” knocked over your cup at breakfast and didn’t apologize. He “forgot” to tell you the floor was wet and watched you slip with a thin smile. He left your shoes outside in the rain.
Little cruelties. Testing. Waiting to see if Gon would choose you over him again.
He did. Every. Single.Time.
And every time Gon chose you, Killua’s eyes went a little colder.
One afternoon, Mito handed Gon a metal box, she looked at it like something she’d kept tucked away for years.
“This is something Ging left with me,” she said, voice serious. “He told me to give it to you when you became a hunter.”
Gon’s eyes lit up immediately. “Ging?”
Even Killua straightens where he’s been lounging against the wall, his bored expression sharpening into interest. Stalking over to his best friend, they immediately start inspecting and discussing what to do with it using words like “Nen” or “Hunter” that completely go over your head, like another reminder that you’re an outsider in a house you never asked to enter.
Then Gon looked at you, smiling bright. “I’m going to figure out how to open this with Killua in my room, it's from my dad! Want to watch?”
You forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “I want to go home.”
Gon blinked, as if the sentence didn’t fit into his world.
Then he smiled again, soft and soothing. “Later.”
Always later.
That afternoon, you sat in his room anyway, while he sat on the floor bickering with Killua, turning it, brow furrowed in concentration. You sat on the bed, watching them and watching the door and trying to plan an escape that never seemed to work.
They activate the box, somehow, with this strange pressure that falls over the room, and listen to the cassette tape that Ging had recorded. Eventually, they figure that they need a Joystation to activate the little game card inside the box.
“I’ll go tomorrow morning,” Gon says immediately, decisive in that blunt Gon way that doesn’t leave room for argument. “Killua, you should stay home.” The white haired boy only scowled.
You swallow hard, heart pounding. “Can I come?”
Gon looks up at you and his smile is instant.
“Next time,” he says again, like he’s soothing you. Like he’s promising you something he doesn’t realize he’s never going to give.
Always next time.
Killua sat near the window, silent, eyes half lidded like a cat pretending to sleep.
You could feel his anger like heat.
✦
The next day, Gon left the house to go to the only game store in town.
He hovered in the doorway for too long before he went.
His eyes kept flicking to you sitting on the couch, lingering. His smile looked strained, like he didn’t like the idea of being away from you even for an hour.
“I’ll be back,” he said again.
You nodded, heart pounding with something you hated admitting. Relief. But also terror. Because the moment the door clicked shut behind him, the house felt different. Quieter.
Not just because he was loud, but because his presence filled space in a way you didn’t notice until it was gone. The floorboards stop creaking. The air stops shifting. Even the sunlight through the windows feels thinner, like the island itself is holding its breath. You knew Killua was watching you. But you also knew he disliked you being here. Maybe he would let you leave.
So you try to take advantage of it anyway.
You get up slowly, ignoring his piercing cat-like stare, and head for the front door with your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape first.
Your fingers barely brush the knob before a voice slides through the room.
“And where are you going?”
You freeze.
Killua stared at you. His expression is blank in that infuriating way, like your panic is boring. Like he’s already decided how this ends and he’s just waiting for you to catch up.
“I’m leaving,” you say, forcing the words out before your courage can shrink. “I don’t belong here.”
Killua’s eyes flick over you once, quick and sharp, like he’s measuring distance. Like he’s calculating.
“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
He pushes off the wall. He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t need to.
He takes one step and somehow he’s closer than he should be, the space between you shrinking too fast for your brain to track properly. Your stomach drops. Instinct screams at you to run, but the hallway behind you suddenly feels too narrow and the door in front of you feels too far.
“You’re the reason he’s acting like this,” Killua says, voice flat.
“I didn’t do anything,” you whisper, throat tight. “I’m trying to get away from you guys.”
Killua’s mouth twitches, not quite a smile. More like irritation.
“Then do it,” he says, and his gaze hardens. “Except you can’t, because he won’t let you.”
A cold shiver runs down your spine.
Killua lifts his hand, the back of it facing you, fingers loose at first like he’s just going to grab you and toss you outside.
Then his hand flexes.
You hear it before you fully see it, a faint scrape, like something sharp dragging against air.
His nails lengthen.
Thin, pointed, clean, like blades he doesn’t need to pull from anywhere because they’ve always been part of him.
Your breath catches, this was completely supernatural and you didn’t know how to react besides fucking piss youself in fear.
Killua watches your face with the patience of someone who’s done this before.
“You should’ve left earlier,” he says quietly. “Before he got weird.”
Your back bumps the door and there’s nowhere to go.
“I tried!” You almost scream, and your hands raise without meaning to, palms out in a useless, trembling defense. “Please—”
“Don’t,” Killua cuts in, sharper than a blade. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what,” you choke.
“Act like you’re helpless,” he says, and his nails gleam again as he flexes them. “It’s fucking annoying.”
Your heart slams against your ribs. Your eyes sting. Your body is shaking so badly you can feel it in your teeth.
Killua takes another step. His shadow swallows your feet and you realize that you cannot hear his steps.
“I’m going to fix this,” he says as if he were talking to you about the weather.
Your lungs seize.
Fix this?
Yeah you were gonna die.
He raises his hand and you squeeze your teary eyes shut and waited for the pain.
It didn’t come.
Instead, the air shifted, and you felt Killua stop so abruptly it was almost like he hit an invisible wall.
You tentatively opened your eyes.
His right hand was millimeters away from your throat, just far enough to avoid drawing blood.
But his other hand had snapped out, grabbing your wrist.
Skin on skin.
Killua’s breath hitched violently, like he’d inhaled water. His eyes widened a fraction, and his grip tightened for a heartbeat, not in aggression, but rather a reflex, as if his body wanted more of whatever that was. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment and his right hand dipped from your throat, giving you some time to breathe. He looked absolutely sickened.
Then he yanked his hand away like touching you burned him. His chest rose and fell fast, like he’d run a mile. For a second, his face looked wild. And you knew it was because he was scared of what he’d felt.
“What,” he hissed, teeth clenched. “What the fuck was that?”
Your pulse roared in your ears. You stared at where his hand held yours, your fingers tingling, your skin buzzing like static.
“I don’t know,” you whispered. You were so mad at yourself for being this weak, unable to do anything, susceptible to all of their whims because if you didn’t, the fact is that you would die.
“Disgusting,” he spat, lifting his hand to your neck once more.
Your breath stopped and you wanted to slap yourself. Fantastic! Of course the moment you think about dying you are going to die again.
But Killua’s hand trembled.
His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle jump.
He didn’t move.
He couldn’t.
The silence stretched, tight and unbearable.
Then, in one sharp motion, Killua lowered the blades of his nails. He turned his head away, as if looking at you was the same as being touched.
“Get out of my sight,” he said, voice low and furious.
But you couldn’t, your legs were shaking too hard.
Killua took a step back, then another, like he was forcing distance between you and him. His eyes flicked to your wrist again, to the spot where his fingers had been. His expression twisted, like he hated that his hand remembered the sensation.
“I’m going to kill you,” he said quietly, his eyes burning. Then he turned and walked away fast, footsteps silent on the wooden floor.
He didn’t look back.
You slid down the wall slowly, breath coming in shallow, trembling bursts. Your wrist still tingled.
Outside, the sound of the ocean drifted faintly through the trees, steady and indifferent. And somewhere out there, Gon was coming back.You didn’t know which thought was worse. That Killua had wanted to kill you.
The first thing you notice after you wake up is the unadulterated, blinding white pain blaring at you.
“Oh fuck…” You rasped lightly, feeling all the sleep leaving in an instant, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Feeling like you’ve been run over by a truck, you lie there for a second with your eyes clenched shut to gather the strength to push yourself into a sitting position. Waking up has never left you feeling this painfully disoriented before. You couldn't remember anything past running outside of your house, sobbing.
When did you go to bed last night? You can't remember anything.
The world spun round as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. Peering at your blurred-out bedside table, you felt unease spike in the pit of your stomach as you shifted to reach for the unfamiliar objects sitting stationary on the table. It was dark in the room, save for the light beneath the doorframe, but the glass's smoothness and the wet condensation on your hands indicated that it was a cup of water. You hastily put it back onto the table with a thunk, and the bed lets out a creak that yours never makes.
You freeze, trying to make sense of your surroundings- or the best that you can while battling your nausea. The sheets beneath you were rough, as if they had been washed one too many times. In your memory, however, you had just bought new sheets a month ago. In confusion, you shifted around, trying to touch your surroundings, and felt a sharp, stinging sensation across your body. There were scratches and burns littered all about your skin, and you realized that you hadn't noticed them because they were cancelled out by the throbbing in your head and stomach. Basically, you were in pain everywhere.
But that wasn't even the main deal.
Now that your eyes have fully adjusted, you could make out that nothing in this room was familiar to you. You weren't home.
You whimper, your heartbeat rapidly speeding up, and nausea washes over you once more like a tidal wave. You couldn't understand how you could possibly end up in a stranger's room, especially since you had lost your memories. You didn't drink at all, so a blackout was out of the question...
Unless you were forced to.
Oh, you felt like throwing up again. Shuddering gasps racked your body as you gripped the blanket covering you. With last night's events blanking on you, you felt you could only come to one conclusion.
You were kidnapped.
Maybe even drugged.
And there would be no one caring enough to come to your rescue.
Hot tears welled in your eyes as your lungs continued to grasp for air. Until this point, you’ve never felt more desperate- if there was anyone you could count on, maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
But you were alone. So you needed to escape.
Your eyes shakily locked onto the curtained window next to the door, and you threw your legs off the bed. The moment you tried to stand, however, the lightheadedness made you stagger forward, and your knees and palms collided with the hardwood floor. You gagged as bile rushed up your throat from the impact, and you paused to recollect your swirling vision.
Move. Move!
You push yourself to stand, grabbing the bedframe with nails biting into wood, steadying yourself with shallow breaths. You take one step. Then another.
Your muscles burn as if you haven't used them in weeks. Each motion makes your stomach violently lurch, but the pain is almost helpful. It keeps you awake and away from dizziness.
However, just as you were within reach of the curtain, the door swung open and harshly collided with the wall, the impact even shaking the room.
You inhaled sharply in terror and averted your eyes. The trembling causing your knees to give out beneath you.
“Wha-woah watch out!”
As you dropped like a weight towards the floor, lean arms suddenly encircled around your waist, hoisting you back up onto your feet with their support.
Feeling entirely numb, you failed to notice the shivers passing through their body as your bare skin pressed against theirs. Skin on skin where your sleeve had ridden up.
You tremble fearfully in his tight grip, but the person only readjusted their grip and tenderly lifted you up into a bridal carry. You flinched and looked upwards towards their face in surprise. Why would someone who supposedly kidnapped you treat you with such kindness?
Warm light from outside the room shone on his outline with a warm yellow. Boyish brown eyes look down at you, wide and earnest, like you've startled him more than he's startled you. His muscles ripple as he unconsciously adjusts you in his grip, pressing your cold, bare arms closer to his warm ones. His lightly tanned skin was striking against the white tank he wore; you could tell it was the kind of tan that came from living near the sun and sea. Messy dark green hair sticks up in a stubborn way that should look ridiculous, but somehow makes him look cute. His lips part as if he's about to say something, then close again, like he's choosing his words.
For a second, he just... stares.
Not blankly. Not cruelly.
Almost like he wants to make sure you're real.
"You're awake," he says softly, and something in his voice makes your chest tighten. It was the relief, so obvious, like he's been waiting for this. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."
You don't feel okay.
You feel like prey.
Your eyes dart to the door behind him, to the bright hallway beyond. Your lungs pull in air too fast, too shallow.
And he notices. Of course he does.
He tightens his grip around you reflexively, like your fear triggers something in him that he can't control. Then, just as quickly, he loosens his grip, clearing his throat like he's embarrassed.
"Sorry," he blurts, too quickly, and he sets you down while maintaining his grip on you. "You almost fell."
A lie.
"Where-" Your voice cracks, and you swallow. "Where am I?"
The boy blinks, then smiles wider, as if the answer is simple, harmless.
"Whale island," he says, like it should mean something to you. "My aunt's house. You're safe here."
The name slides off your brain without catching. The only part your mind clings to is my aunt’s house, because it doesn’t sound like something a kidnapper would say.
Unless it’s a lie.
You flinch at the thought, and his brows knit together immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning in without meaning to. The movement brings your bodies closer, skin brushing against your forearm, and—
His breath stutters.
It’s subtle, but you feel it. A sharp inhale, as his lungs seize for a heartbeat. His eyes flick down to where your skin touched his, then snap back up to your face too fast. His cheeks flush faintly.
You don't understand what it means, but your fear spikes anyway. You didn't understand anything. Why this wildly attractive boy was holding you, why you were here, where the fuck whale island was. You didn't understand anything, and that drove you crazy.
"I'm Gon," he says, and his smile returns in a puppy-like way. "Do you... remember your name or how you got here?"
"...[Name]," you say nervously. "But I don't remember how I got here."
The moment you say that, the panic starts up again, and you feel dizzy. Gon's expression falters for a fraction of a second, too quick to be noticed by you, and as soon as it was there, it was replaced by warmth.
“That’s okay,” he says quickly. “That’s okay. Aunt Mito said you might be confused when you woke up.”
Aunt Mito.
An adult. A witness. A person who might help.
Your gaze darts past him again, towards the curtain you were reaching for. Towards the window. The thought of sunlight, people, noise, anything that isn’t this room, makes your chest flutter.
“I—” you rasp, and your throat tightens. “I need to go.”
Gon freezes, and his bright smile tightens at the edges. “Not yet,” he says, too fast.
Then he catches himself, softens his voice. “You can barely stand. You’re hurt. You’ll fall again.”
“I don’t know you,” you whisper. The words come out quieter than you want them to. They sound pathetic.
Gon’s eyes widen a little. He looks, for one terrifying second, like he’s about to argue with you. Then his expression shifts again, and you don’t know which version of him is real.
“I know,” he says, softer. “I know you don’t. But you’re safe here, I promise.”
“Why am I here?” you ask, voice shaking. “How did I get here?”
Gon answers immediately, like he’s rehearsed the story in his head enough times that it’s become smooth.
“We found you in the water,” he says. “At the bay. You were drowning. You weren’t waking up, so I brought you here.”
Drowning. Your eyes flick down to the burns on your arm. Water doesn’t do that.
“How—” you start, and your head throbs so hard your vision blurs again. You sway in his arms without meaning to, nausea surging. Instinctively, you grab at him for balance, and your fingers catch his wrist.
Bare skin on bare skin.
The reaction is instant. A visible shiver runs through him, like a ripple passing under his skin. His grip tightens for a heartbeat, not rough, but possessive in a way that makes your stomach twist. His breath hitches, and his eyes flutter closed for the briefest moment, like he’s bracing against something sweet and overwhelming.
Then he pulls his wrist away like he’s burned.
Too late.
His gaze locks onto your hand, then your face, pupils slightly blown in the dim light. His lips part, and for a moment he looks… dazed. Not drunk or sleepy, but like he’s been struck by something he can’t name. He blinks rapidly, as if clearing his head, and forces his smile back into place. It doesn’t sit right anymore.
“Sorry,” he says, voice a little uneven. “You’re just— you’re really shaky.”
You stare at him, heart racing. Your fingers tingle where you touched him, but you don’t know why.
You don’t know anything.
The silence stretches tight between you, filled with your ragged breathing and the faint noises coming from outside the room.
Then footsteps pound down the hallway.
A second figure emerges from the light, his bright white hair catching your eye. Blue eyes snap towards you, and you flinch. They were so cold, completely the opposite of Gon, and they shone in an annoyance and indifference that you've known all your life. His eyes flick away from you towards Gon, and his expression sours.
“What happened?” he demands, scowling, “You rushed into the house as if it caught on fire just for this?”
Docile with fear, you could only look away to avoid his cold glare, instinctively moving closer to Gon's warmth. To which the green-haired boy shuddered in response. Killua only narrows his eyes sharply at this scene and barks, "Gon!"
Gon jolts slightly, like he forgot anyone else existed. “She woke up,” he says.
The white-haired boy’s gaze flicks over you quickly, assessing. Then it cuts back to Gon, narrowing.
“You’re acting weird,” he says flatly.
“I’m not,” Gon replies all too fast.
The boy steps further into the room, eyes landing on the way Gon’s arms are positioned, your shivering form, the way his best friend's fingers keep flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
He scowls. “Whatever. Is she hurt?”
You swallow, throat tight. Your voice comes out small. “Let me go.”
The white-haired boy’s eyes snap to you, cold and impatient. “Where’s ‘go’?”
You open your mouth. Nothing comes. No address. No memories of any names or numbers, despite the fact that you remember it existed. Your stomach drops all over again.
Gon speaks before you can even breathe. “She doesn’t remember,” he says smoothly, too smooth. “She probably hit her head.”
The white-haired boy’s eyes narrow, like he doesn’t like how quickly that answer came.
“Probably,” he repeats slowly.
Gon smiles at you again, bright and careful, like he’s trying to keep you calm. “My aunt will be back soon. She’ll help you, okay? You just need to rest.”
Rest.
In a stranger’s bed, in a stranger’s clothes, with two strangers here, and one watching you like you’re something they dragged home. You wanted to scream, scream about how fucking unfair this was to you. But you say nothing.
Your pulse pounds in your ears. You glance toward the window again.
Gon’s eyes follow your gaze. His arms tighten a fraction. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel it.
And you don’t know why the thought that hits you next is the scariest one yet.
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Warning: This story contains manga spoilers, mild swearing, blood, gore and obsessive behavior.
All minors will be aged up, meaning they will be adults in this story.
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6
Chapter 1: Invisible
For as long as you could remember, you were average.
Ordinary, bland, mediocre, forgettable.
Though, it wasn’t as if the others surrounding you were exceptional either. They were all the same; they talked about the same dull things, went out to the same places every weekend, did whatever the next person did.
And you tried your best to fit in, you really did.
You copied what others wore, what they said, how they acted and even took on their opinions. However, despite your best efforts, you were always left behind. In those moments of solitude, you would question yourself: Why? What made you specifically different? How come you were the one that everyone always forgot?
Why were you always the one your friends forgot to invite when they made plans?- when they hung out? Why were you always the one that sat quietly in the corner of the group while everyone else talked and laughed?
Whenever this happened, a cold yet burning sense of loneliness would creep up from the pit of your stomach and clench tightly at your throat.
Yet no matter how bad it got, in the end, you would always come to the conclusion that you would prefer to surround yourself with people who didn't care about you rather than none at all.
And that was... normal, right?
╚══《✧》══╝
"...So everyone got the information, right?" A girl with bleached streaks in her hair- Sara- says, "I sent the dinner plans and stuff in the group chat."
What group chat?
You wanted to speak out but somebody else's voice beat you to it, "Should be it. I invited everyone in our group."
What about me? Am I not a part of the group?
It was during lunch break between your classes when they brought up some 'plan' to go out for dinner. Apparently something that everyone in your group had been talking about for a long time; it was also something you've never heard about up until now.
"Um," Pulling out your phone, you swiped at your messages and frowned slightly, "I don't think I'm in it?"
Nobody answered your question.
Feeling awkward that no one heard you, you turned back to face your lunch quietly. Then one of your 'friends'- someone that has never talked to you before called out and pointed at you, "I think she said something earlier."
This time, they all turned to face you boredly. You snapped your head up, a bit surprised at the mention of your name. "Oh- I just said that I don't think that I'm in the group chat you were talking about before."
"Huh." Sara raised a delicate eyebrow and glanced absently at her phone, "Oops my bad, guess I missed 'ya. I'll add you later... um- oh [Y/N]."
Shit... You felt sick to your stomach.
And you weren't sure why. Perhaps it was because of the frustration building up inside of you that they kept on forgetting about you, and that you actually had to remind them yourself in order to be recognized. Or... it could've just been because you ate something bad.
Thankfully, instead of puking your guts out in front of everyone, you pushed down any brewing nausea and merely nodded. At that, they all turned back to their own conversations, losing interest in whatever you had to say afterwards.
The rest of lunch continued the same way as usual- you sat at the corner while people around you talked. Of course it wasn't like you never tried to join in on their conversations, but whenever you tried, they either just blatantly ignored your words or straight up said it was private.
Screw them then, you thought bitterly while twinges of annoyance and loneliness pricked needles at your chest, who needs them when I have myself?
But you knew you were lying.
It was almost funny to you that the times you felt the most lonely were when you were surrounded by others. You gnawed at your lower lip, feeling white hot tears gather in the corners of your eyes, vision growing blurry by the second.
No one noticed you crying. Of course they wouldn't notice. Why would they ever bother with someone like you. Someone so... so invisible.
Fuck. You wondered if they would even care if you even died.
You bit at your lip harder, and bit, and bit, and bit, and bit. Until you could taste the tang of iron on your tongue.
Drops of tears slipped down your cheeks as you licked the wound gingerly.
...Ah, your stomach started to hurt again.
╚══《✧》══╝
When you pushed open your front door, you were greeted with the smell of chinese takeout and light murmurs in the kitchen. From your parents presumably. What a surprise.
They were nice people you supposed, worked nine to fives, and were too busy to pay you much attention. The usual. Often more than not, they would go overseas on business trips for months at a time and leave you alone in the house with enough allowance to survive. You knew you couldn't blame them for it, they were busy providing for you, for the family. But... still, you couldn't help but resent them a little that you couldn't even find the solace of company in your own home.
You sighed and slid off your shoes on the doormat outside. At least one advantage of rich parents was that you didn't have to live in the dorms since your house was close to your college campus.
Hopefully your eyes were no longer swollen.
"Welcome home..." You muttered.
Noticing the living room lights were turned off, you flicked them on and walked towards the dining room. Your parents were at the dinner table talking about something you couldn't bother to understand. They must've started dinner without you. At the sight of your entrance, your mother glanced at you in acknowledgment before turning back to your father.
You sat quietly on your side of the table with a plate of food.
After a few minutes of eating in silence, your father cut off the conversation and turned to you, "So, how were your classes?"
Why were they trying to play parents now, especially when they never bothered to contact you about your life during the long months they were gone before?
You curtly replied and stabbed a fork into your food. "Fine."
He raised an eyebrow at your short answer, "What about your friends? How's it going with them?"
Stop pushing. Leave me alone. Don't talk like you know me.
"Fine."
Your mother furrowed her eyebrows, "Watch your tone at the dinner table, [Name]."
"What tone." you scowled at your plate. Feeling angry and bitter, you allowed yourself to project your buried emotions onto them. Stop hounding me, leave me the hell alone like you've always have. "I said, like, two words."
Your mother frowned and put down her utensils on her plate, "[Name], what's going on with you? You don't usually act... like this."
Like... this? She's got to be joking.
Without much thought, you narrowed your eyes and scoffed, "What would you know? You're never around to know what I act like anyway."
You froze at the same time your parents did. Instantly you look away to stop yourself from seeing their expressions, guilt biting at your conscience.
At the back of your head, you knew what you had just said was incredibly selfish... but were you really wrong though? They, as the parental figures in your life, should be around to support you at your lowest moments, to help you grow- all they left you was a cold empty home and the ghost of a once happy family.
Your father slammed his hands on the table and rose to his feet.
"[Name] [Last name]!"
Hearing him yell just made you feel more and more repressed. Your face grew hot and your nose started to burn as you desperately tried to push the frustrated tears back inside.
You stood up to match his stance and threw your hands up in exasperation, "What?! You knowthat I'm not wrong! You leave for months at a time and you never even bother to contact me- " Feeling your throat constrict with emotion, you choke slightly on your words, "Sometimes, I just wish- that I had different parents. Parents that'd actually care about me."
From what you could see in your blurry peripheral vision, you saw your mother's face go slack. Gritting your teeth, you continued, "Seeing how you're never here, you must really not want to see my face-"
"[Name] you know that's not-"
"I don't know anything! You won't fucking talk to me!"
Gasps come out in short breaths and you feel pins and needles in your body. The same tears come pouring out and slide messily down your face. The dizzying roaring in your head deafened you from their words as you took an unsteady step back from the table, "If- If you really don't want me around that much, then I'll leave. I won't bother you anymore."
As you stormed out of the house, the anger in your heart slowly dissipated into wrenching pain. The same way a wet rag would be squeezed of water.
There was a soft plea in the midst of your whirling thoughts: for your parents to come after you, for them to offer you the comfort you so longed for.
You paused at the porch.
Won't you come after me? Or will you forget me the same way everyone else does?
You waited, clinging onto the last shred of hope-
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
...They never came.
A light sob wracked your body and you tore off the porch, onto the sidewalk. You had no destination in mind. You just needed to get away; to leave everything behind. Away from everything you've known thus far.
╚══《✧》══╝
Water rushed beneath your feet as you stood waiting.
How much time has passed? An hour? Two? You didn't know without your phone, yet maybe that was for the better.
You had found yourself walking until the part of town you recognized blended into unfamiliar territory. And now, standing by the railing of a bridge, you swiped your hands across your eyes to dry out the wet tears. You weren't going to kill yourself- obviously- you just wanted some space, some alone time. You let out a dry laugh at the thought; loneliness truly is bliss until given by others.
Honestly, you knew you would have to swallow your pride and go back sooner or later. Willingly or forcibly.
By now, the moon was glinting through the dark clouds and an autumn chill had begun to settle into the air. A gust of wind blew past and you shivered, "I guess I should go back now-"
"Hello."
"Shit!" Your heart leapt into your throat, and you whipped your head around frantically to face the voice, "Who the hell?"
You froze in shock.
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't this.
It was a child, or rather, it wore the shape of one. The outline of their body was blended into the dark background, your eyes unable to focus on where to place them. Their edges shimmered with something like static, soft and constant, the way air looks above a concrete road in summer, except the night was freezing.
Then something worse crawled up your spine.
A strange sense of Deja Vu.
The child laughed softly, airy and wrong. "Oh no. My physical form is just like that. Humans tend to just brush past me. But you can see me." Their head tilted. "Isn't that interesting? "
"What?" Your voice came out thin. "What are you talking about?"
"Hm." They smiled like you were asking something silly. Then their gaze flickered over you from head to toe. "That's unimportant."
Your heart slammed against your ribs. The fear you felt wasn't logical. It was older than logic, the kind that lived in bone and instinct. The kind you felt when you stood too close to a cliff's edge, when you heard footsteps behind you at night, when you realized something was watching in the dark.
Except it wasn't the dark. It was them.
They raised a finger and pressed it into your chest.
"I heard your desire," they murmured. "And I believe that I can offer a solution... for a small price."
You should've said no immediately, but something in you said yes anyway. How could you live like this? Alone and resentful for the rest of your life? While everyone finds their home, you live in their shadow, begging for scraps.
You forced your voice to work. "A price."
"Yes."
"And what would you know what I desire?"
Their smile softened, and somehow that made it worse. "I know everything about you [Name], I've known you for a long time."
Your throat tightened.
Goosebumps sharply raised on your skin as the sense of deja vu sharpened, like a picture snapping into focus for half a second. A memory you lost. A place you've forgotten. A voice you've heard, maybe in childhood, maybe in nightmares, maybe in the spaces between consciousness.
You hated it.
Hated that it felt familiar. Hated that you wanted to understand it.
You tried to pull away from the railing.
Your body wouldn't move.
Fear surged hot and sick. You jerked again. Nothing.
The child watched, a smile widening just a fraction, as if they were enjoying your struggle without needing to do anything.
Then, finally, your body relaxed. You tore away from the railing and stumbled back, the child watching.
Your breathing came out fast and uneven. "What do you want from me?"
They hummed, as if considering, then lifted their hand. Their palm was open.
The air popped faintly, like static snapping off a sweater. Your skin prickled in response.
"Straightforward question," they said. "Would you like me to whisk away all your problems? Everything."
Everything. The group chats. The stares. The corner. Your parents' blank faces. The way the whole world seemed to forget how you existed.
"All you have to do," they continued, "is shake my hand."
You stared at their palm.
You should have said no. You should have screamed.
But the air around them hummed, and your thoughts slipped like wet soap. It wasn't like you stopped being afraid. The fear stayed, sharp and present, but your mind wouldn't line up. Like someone was acting for you.
Your hand lifted a few inches before you realized you were even moving. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared.
"Stop," you whispered.
Your voice was unrecognizable to yourself. Broken and pleading.
The child's eyes flickered to your hand hungrily. "Hurry"
With their word, something inside your chest that wanted to be seen so badly reached for you. The loneliness in you rose up like a hand reaching for the first person who ever reached back.
Your fingers touched their palm, and something snapped.
Too late.
Their fingers closed around yours.
A wide grin split their face, and it looked so wrong, too big for the shape of a child, too delighted.
"Wonderful," they breathed, "Then I'll see you on the other side, [Name]."
You ripped their hands loose from yours and stumbled back
"What?" you choked out. "What did you do?"
They laughed softly, the sound crackling at the edges. "I wish you luck."
Your heart hammered. "Wait- wait. What was the price?"
"Be careful," they said, voice almost kind, "of those you keep close."
"What was the price??"
The world split open beneath your feet. And for one heartbeat, you were weightless.
Then you fell.
The air ripped past you. Your throat opened for a scream, but no sound would come.
Above you, the child's blurred face hovered at the edge of the world like a glitch, like a smudge of light in the dark.
And then it vanished.
You dropped into the abyss with nothing to grab and no chance to stop.
Summary: With nothing to you but your name, Gon Freecss decides he is your best friend. Join him as you search for an enigmatic hunter and see the wonders of the world. (Cross posted on Qoutev)
"You're not going to leave us... Are you? Sissy?" Pale hands grip the hens of your clothes as beautiful and teary blue eyes peered up at you. The girl's cheeks are flushed pink, tears streaks staining her skin as she traps you within her embrace.
Carefully, you place your hand on her head. Combing your fingers through her long and choppy black hair as she buries her face into your chest, sobbing. "Please don't leave..."
You wake up with a start. Your eyes squint, trying to adjust to the bright light as you feel the onset of a headache coming from something so abrupt waking you from a nightmare.
You're dreaming about the girl in that playroom again.
Ever since you woke up to this new world, you've been plagued with something along the lines of night terrors. Sleep did not come easy to you, and so time passed and nothing mattered. Despite lacking memories, you had possessions with you and a power you somehow had enough mind to summon.
Your ability comes in the form of a voice; a friendly old woman who tells you where to go, to watch your step and to think over your choices. You've survived so far, so you never really questioned the strangeness of it all.
You don't really have the urge to find out who you had been before. There was no trace of it. What you had with you didn't ring anything familiar; all you had was your name, a bag with some clothes, and strange, gold coins that the grandmother doesn't seem to run out of. Where those came from? You don't know.
What mattered to you now was the present— the grandmother in your head often told you that you were far too young to worry about such things; you were probably 14, as she says you were.
Is she hiding things from you? You certainly hoped not.
"You fell asleep near the stairs again, haven't you?" A familiar voice calls out to you. It's Mito Freecss, a local of the island, and the woman that found you— more like her son did, but that was a story for another day.
"I think so." You softly reply; it's not exactly a lie, you've been falling asleep in places where no one should really sleep. You feel a little bad really, having her find you asleep in the strangest of places, one of which had been inside of her cupboard at one point.
"Come with me, it looks like you haven't eaten yet." Knowing enough to not fight her, you oblige. It seems that she's not asking you about your night terrors this time.
The walk to her home is quiet, the breeze is gentle and the skies are a beautiful shade of blue.
It reminded you of the girl in the playroom.
"[Name]." Mito calls out to you, and you hum. "Why don't you come and live with us? Gon could use someone his age to hang around with."
"....." You halt your steps. "I'll... Think about it. Is it really okay? I can manage on my own, I promise."
"Alright." She sighs. "If you ever decide, then just knock on the door. I'll let grandmother know." She walks closer to you and takes your hand in hers, leading you into her home.
~~~~~~~~~
Gon Freecss is a strange boy.
Too happy, too bright, too optimistic. (The woman in your head tells you it's natural for a child to be like this— maybe not you, you're calm, plagued with the perpetual lack of sleep that affected your energy.)
Even though you're the way you were, Gon doesn't seem to get sick of not leaving you alone.
"[Name], let's go to the forest!"
"[Name], let's go on a date!"
"[Name]—"
Invitations to many many adventures, dinner dates, and walks in the forest amongst other things. He had ambitions outside of hanging out with you at the very least— more like one ambition really. You've always had the impression that Whale Island was too small of a world for someone like Gon, and even his aunt mother Mito knows as much as she'd like to deny it.
What that ambition was? Find Ging.
It always boiled down to the man you've never met. If you were being honest, you don't really understand why Gon's motivated to look for a father who went out to buy milk at the first chance he got. Mito always told you stories ever since Gon found out his father was in fact not dead; something about bringing a two year old Gon home, something about leaving his son in her care when she had been your age so he could continue becoming a hunter, something about the risks of such a job.
You don't know the man, but he was starting to becoming more unappealing the more Mito tells you about it despite Gon's rather positive outlook on his deadbeat father.
But again, Gon is a weird sort (unfortunately someone who too is adored by the old woman in your head). And unfortunately for you, you're dragged into his ambitions too. You're his best friend; someone who he wants to meet Ging with, he claims.
"[Name], once I get the king of the lake, let's take the hunter exam." Gon quietly tells you as he sets up his gear. You're seated on a tree branch beside him, half lying down as you feel drowsiness consume you once again.
"Sure. You'll have to carry me if I get tired though." You say, a reply meant to humor him more than anything else. You care, but you also don't like the concept of too much physical exertion. Being a Hunter sounds like a lot of work, that much you have gathered.
As always, Gon doesn't seem to care.
"Okay!" He says enthusiastically. "Are you sleepy?"
"What do you think?" You scowl, barely half awake to process the grin on his face as he giggles at your antics like it's clockwork.
"I'll wake you when I catch it."
You give him a thumbs up before falling unconscious under the shade.
~~~~~~~~~
And wake you, Gon certainly did.
"You caught it." You blankly say. You didn't really doubt he would, if there's anything you know about Gon was that he was extremely stubborn.
"I did!" He cheers, hugging you as he laughs over his own victory. You hug him back, giving his head a light pat for a job well done as you spot Mito looking pensive amongst the impressed crowd of fishermen and fishmongers. Ah, right. She's always been against Gon becoming a hunter.
You understand why, but sadly, her son is a stubborn one.
It takes you a while to wait for him at the docks- you don't want to interrupt with anything important she might have told him.
•You have always been so mindful.• The grandmother muses. •It doesn't hurt to listen in a bit. Why don't you approach Mito? I have a feeling it will be a long while before you and Gon will be coming back home.•
An old woman's intuition is rarely wrong, especially the grandmother in your head.
It will take you a while to come back, huh... something inside of you agrees. And so you walk over to Mito, who somehow looked relieved at the sight of you.
"[Name]." Mito looks like she's biting back tears as she places a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder. "I know this is a lot to ask, but please, look after Gon."
"You didn't have to say it." You reply, nodding. You want to say you're not the best person Mito should be asking that favor of, but you don't let her know that. "I'll write you letters, maybe include things he's not telling you if he forgets to."
"Thank you." She sighs heavily, pulling you into a hug. She reluctantly lets you go the moment you heard Gon call your name. You turn away, and she slips something in your pocket before you made your way to the boat.
"What did she tell you?" Gon asks, curious as the cheers of the islanders faded into the distance.
"Nothing important. She just told me to be with you." You reply. "Also.. best hunter? I believe in you, but don't rush it."
"Pfft, best hunter in the world. This brat doesn't respect us at all." The voice of an older man interrupts.
"Nobody asked you." You sneer, narrowing your eyes at the man.
"It's true though, there's millions of applicants every year for the exam. You seriously think that brats like you can survive it? Especially you, you look like you can barely handle a day, much more having to fight people." Another spat. You may be tired, but you're not exactly helpless. Were you offended by the assumption? Yes. Were you gonna hand their ass to them? Also yes. Not a beating though, as Gon was present and would have disapproved of such methods in courtesy of his aunt.
"Oh fuck you. I bet a stack of gold coins that none of you are making it out of the exam. Or in this boat at all." You hum nonchalantly, manifesting a stack of exactly four gold coins in your hand to show to the men. "You want in?"
One of them squints. "Make it ten and I'll think about it."
You let out a tired smile. "Deal." With a single palm covering the previous stack, four coins become ten. These guys are so easy, you think to yourself as the grandmother in your head chuckles.
"What's your wager?" It's your turn to ask this time.
"We won't bother you or the boy. But if you lose, we get the coins, and we get to show you how bad the real world is." The way they try to make themselves threatening makes you almost cringe. What old men takes the wager made by a little girl with gold anyway? These guys apparently.
•Unfortunate for them that you are rather gifted, my child.• Grandmother chimes. •Oh, there will be a storm soon. It's best you get inside so you don't get wet.•
"I'll hold you up on your terms. Also, you might wanna get inside." You wave to them, heading inside of the ship just a few moments before a storm had set in.
Not even an hour into the storm and you're already smelling vomit permeating in the halls. The same men you've made bets with didn't last after all. You step over their fallen bodies on the wooden floor, smiling in satisfaction but not quite helping them as they groan in discomfort.
Serves them right for insulting Gon, you think. You make your way towards one of the only few who managed to brave the storm, sitting only a meter away from him as you feel the onset of drowsiness consume you again.
"Hey, you feeling sick, girl?" The man asks, he looks a few years older than you, in respectable garb and glasses to fit his face. The half bitten apple in his hand is ignored in favor of his worry towards you. You shake your head.
"No, just really sleepy. Don't worry, this is normal." You wave his concern off.
"You got a sleep disorder or something?" He asks, you shrug.
"Probably. I've had trouble sleeping sometimes, which makes me very tired." You reply, swinging your legs back and forth in an attempt to keep yourself awake for Gon's sake.
"So you're not going home then?"
"Nope! If I do, mister guy over there," you point to Gon, who had been handing out herbs for the sick men. "Is gonna get himself killed. If he does, his mom's cooking me."
The man grimaces. "Oof, tough luck. He sounds like a handful already, no offense."
"None taken." Your conversation is cut off by the captain, who calls for the four of you.
You drag yourself right next to Gon, yawning as you stand. The storm outside isn't doing wonders for you, with the cold making you even sleepover than you really should. Miraculously, perhaps with the help of Grandmother, you're still able to pay attention.
"First, tell me your names." The captain's voice, god bless, is booming and snaps you awake.
"I'm [Name]."
"I'm Kurapika."
"It's Leorio."
"I'm Gon!"
"Tell me, why do you want to be hunters?"
Leorio doesn't seem to like the question. "Hey! If you're not an examiner, you can't boss us around!"
The captain seems to disagree with that. "Just answer the question!"
Gon chimes in rather happily. "My father's a hunter."
"More like a deadbeat." You mutter under your breath, something that makes Kurapika curiously glance at you before focusing back on the captain.
"I left Whale Island with my best friend because I wanted to know why my dad desired so much to be a Hunter." Gon links his arm with yours as you nod sagely. The captain looks over you, expecting an answer.
"I'm just here to make sure he actually goes home alive. And a Hunter's license is apparently useful in getting inside restricted areas." You say. While you had no interest in finding out who you were, you were certainly curious as to why some places are banned from the public and why only Hunters can access it. Is it stupid? Probably, but you don't really care. "I've always wanted to see what's up with those places." The captain nods, satisfied.
"Hey kids! You're not supposed to be answering his question!" Leorio scowls, hands on his hips as he looms over the both of you.
"Mate, who the fuck said we can't? Besides, it's not a secret." Gon looks alarmed at the way you answered, clamping a hand on your mouth as he chuckles sheepishly.
"Hehe, sorry about her. But why can't we tell him why we're here though?" Gon asks, curious.
"Not a team player are ya? I don't wish to reveal why I'm here." He reaches out to poke Gon on the forehead. He has a point, you think, but the captain doesn't exude the aura of someone untrustworthy.
"I agree with Leorio." Kurapika chimes in.
"Hey! Aren't you younger than I am? Show some respect!" You squint through the shouting and frown.
"Gon, wake me up when they're done talking." Gon nods, letting you borrow and lean into his shoulder as you take your nap while standing.
"[Name], wake up!" Gon shakes you awake. You groan, rubbing the drowsiness from your eyes as you assess the situation.
•They're in need of help to lower the sails, dear. It seems that we'll run into a waterspout soon.•
Well that's fun. Without missing a second, you run after Gon and into the rainy weather. Fuck, you can barely see shit out here but Leorio and Kurapika in the corner doesn't seem to mind and seems to be only concerned with catching a face with each other. You deadpan, sending them a look they can't see before you help the rest of the crew out.
You help with pulling the ropes, slowly but steadily the sails lower, up until the other side lets go of their rope. You spot the guy Gon was helping earlier being flung, and quickly you make work with tying the rope to the mast as fast as you can and just in time, the man lets go of the rope. Fuck. He's flung too far.
He flies across the ship, in between Leorio and Kurapika and .. oh shit.
Gon's flying after the guy.
Oh this little guy was gonna give you a heart attack.
"Gon!" You shout, reaching out just as Kurapika and Leorio catch him by the legs. The rest of the crew follows after you to haul the four out of the edge of the ship.
You facepalm. You were going to kill this boy.
"What were you thinking?! You could have died, you idiot!" You slap Gon across the face much to the horror of everyone in the ship, before enveloping him into a hug. "Dude, your mom is so going to kill me."
"She won't! Kurapika and Leorio caught me though!" Gon beams, you give him a look. Leorio and Kurapika seem to share the same sentiment as you do.
"If I wasn't able to grab your legs, you'd be shark bait right now!" Leorio angrily huffs, giving Gon a pointed look. "At least feel bad about it."
"You're awfully reckless." Kurapika shakes his head, seemingly disappointed. "But you're at least alive."
The saving grace of the conversation appears in the form of the man Gon saved. You're not particularly pleased with Gon for giving you a heart attack, but you had to hand it to him for being nice enough to save a man.
"Gon! Thanks, you saved my life." He smiles, huffing to catch his breath.
"Oh! Katsuo!" Gon grins as you step away from him. "You're okay! I couldn't have done it alone though." He turns to Leorio and Kurapika. "These two helped save you."
"Huh?" The duo blink as Katsuo bows to express his gratitude.
"Thank you so much for saving me!"
Kurapika composes himself first. "There's no need to thank me." He says, all the while Leorio awkwardly smiles and scratches his head.
"Well, I'm glad you're okay." Leorio chuckles, tone wavering as he glances off to the side in an attempt to hide himself from being flustered.
"Just accept the thanks." You deadpan. "Also Katsuo, you were holding the rope wrong." You tell him. "Hold it like this and stand like so, so you don't get flung off the far side of the ocean next time." You do a short demonstration, nodding your head off every now and then now that the adrenaline brought by Gon's actions had worn off.
"T-thank you miss! I'll be returning to my station now." Katsuo smiles before running off as you exhale a particularly long sigh.
Kurapika takes notice of your state first. "Hey, are you okay? Now that I can take a good look at you, you don't..."
"Look so good? Yeah, I know. But at least we're in the clear now. I don't sense any storms incoming after the last one." You say, barely able to keep your eyes open now. "Don't worry, I'm not sick. Just horrendously sleepy."
"She's always been like that." Gon explains. "She can't sleep properly since she has nightmares during the night, so she's very very tired."
"Damn, you didn't have to tell them all that." You mumble, everyone chuckles at the exchange as Gon lends you his shoulder as you find a place to sit. "He's not lying though."
"How old was she when this started?" Leorio asks, curious.
"Dunno." Gon shrugs. "She's been like that since I found her three years ago."
"Huh...." You don't hear the rest of the conversation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Extra:
"So you're just gonna carry her like that?"
"Yup!"
"You sure you don't wanna leave her here? She'd be safer, ya know?"
"Nope! She doesn't look like it, but [Name] can fight in her sleep! I don't know how she does it, but she just does and then she'd be awake."
"Oh so she's fighting while half asleep then, noted."
"Why are you carrying her then? You can just wake her up, right?"
"I like having to carry her though, so I don't mind. I've done this before when I sometimes find her by the town square since my aunt keeps being worried about her."
"I see. Is she dear to you, Gon?"
"[Name]? Of course! She's my best friend. I don't ever want to leave her behind."
