Killua x Illumi

The match list on the electronic screen froze on its final line. Illumi stood in the center of the arena, his fingers already pinching the end of the first Nen Needle. He did not pull it out quickly, just as he had not in Trick Tower—each one came with a faint metallic scraping sound, like screws being removed one by one from some precision instrument. Muscles shifted, bones reformed, and that dull, rigid face peeled away like layers of a mask. Long hair fell over his shoulders. His face was pale, his eyes black and lifeless. Illumi Zoldyck.

Killua's pupils widened, his mouth slightly open, every muscle in his body taut. He wanted to step back, but his legs seemed nailed to the arena floor. He had seen that face ever since he was little. Every appearance meant he had to act according to his family's will. This time was no exception.

Illumi looked down at his younger brother. His voice was calm and cold, as though he were reciting a script written long ago. "You have no right to have friends. You were born to be a Zoldyck assassin. Your life contains only missions and killing. There should be no unnecessary emotions."

Killua's lips moved. I do. I have things I want. I want to be Gon's friend. But the words caught in his throat and would not come out. It was not that his brother would not let him say them—it was that something in his mind was stopping him. That needle. The Nen Needle that had been buried deep in his brainstem since before he could remember. Whenever he tried to defy his brother's will, its tip would tremble slightly, forcing every word back into his lungs.

"The bond between you and Gon should never have existed." Illumi watched him, those black, lifeless eyes like two mirrors reflecting only Killua's own fear. "Since you refuse to wake up, I'll get rid of him now and eliminate the problem for good."

"N-no... don't..." Killua squeezed the words out from deep in his throat, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

Illumi ignored him. His cold gaze swept toward the waiting room where Gon was, and he made as if to step down from the arena.

"Don't move." Illumi stopped without looking back. "Any movement at all means the duel has begun. If my hand touches you, that also counts as the duel beginning. There is only one way to stop it—surrender."

Killua stood where he was, his nails digging into his palms. His body had gone completely rigid—not because he wanted to stop, but because of that needle. It had been lodged in his brain for over a decade. Whenever he faced an opponent he knew he could not defeat, its tip issued one command: run. Now that command overlapped with his brother's order, nailing his limbs to the arena floor. He remembered being locked in solitary confinement at four, when his brother had said the same thing from outside the door. When he completed his first mission alone at six, his brother had said the same thing during the debriefing. When he asked his father at eight whether he could attend school like other children his age, his brother had answered for their father with those same words. Every time, he knew how to argue back. Every time, he did not. Because the needle would not let him.

Illumi turned around and took one step toward him.

"I surrender." Killua's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. His expression was blank, without anger or resentment, containing only the numbness of total defeat. He slowly lowered his arms, as though all his strength had left him. "I lost... Brother."

Illumi withdrew his hand and stepped off the arena. His gait was exactly the same as when he had entered—stiff, even, without a single unnecessary movement, like a robot that had completed its task. Killua remained where he was, head lowered. Suddenly, he wanted to laugh. Not bitterly, but from something emptier than bitterness. Four years old, six years old, eight years old, twelve years old. Every time, he had made the same choice. He returned to his seat, and after sitting down, his posture was exactly like Illumi's before removing the needles—body rigid, face expressionless, like a doll that had been stuck with needles again. But the needle had never been removed. Today, his brother had merely made him see that it existed.

Netero declared Illumi the winner. He then announced the resumption of the postponed match: Bodoro versus Leorio. Bodoro stepped into the arena. The gray-haired martial artist had taken a long time to recover after being injured by Hisoka, and he could barely stand upright now. Across from him, Leorio took his stance, muttering that once he finished this match, he would be a Hunter.

Netero raised his hand to signal the start of the match. The instant his words fell, Killua rose from his seat. His eyes were vacant, his face expressionless, and he walked exactly as Illumi had before removing his needles. He strode to the center of the arena, paused behind Bodoro for an instant, then drove his bare hand through Bodoro's chest. His fingers pierced in through the man's back and emerged from his chest.

The entire venue was stunned. Bodoro looked down at the hand protruding from his chest, opened his mouth, but could not say a word before collapsing at the edge of the arena.

Netero's voice sank. "Killua Zoldyck, you have violated the rules by killing a candidate. You are disqualified from this Hunter Exam and will be expelled immediately."

Killua did not argue. He did not even glance at the fallen Bodoro. Staff members came forward and led him away from the arena. As he passed Gon's empty seat, his eyes remained vacant, without the slightest sign of communication, like a controlled doll. The corner of his mouth twitched faintly—that was the Nen Needle's final tremor.

Saitama stood beside Netero and watched everything from beginning to end. He had seen this episode. He knew what Illumi would say, that Killua would surrender, that Bodoro would die. But this scene had only lasted a few minutes in the anime. Watching a twelve-year-old boy be controlled simultaneously by his own older brother's words and Nen Needle, then walk step by step into the arena and drive his hand through an old man's chest, felt completely different in person.

"His brother put a needle in his brain when he was really young. Not one in his face—a needle in his brain. Whenever he runs into someone he can't beat, he wants to run. Whenever he resists his brother, his whole body locks up. It's not because he's a coward. The needle is controlling him." Saitama spoke quietly, almost to himself. "That needle was still working just now. He'll be afraid of his brother for the rest of his life—unless someone helps him pull it out."

Netero turned his head to look at him. Saitama said nothing more. He knew Gon would bring Killua back from Kukuroo Mountain. He knew Killua would one day remove that needle himself. But not today. Today, all he could do was stand there and watch the silver-haired boy be led out of the exam site by the staff.

Netero announced the list of successful candidates: Gon, Kurapika, Hanzo, Hisoka, Pokkle, Illumi, and Leorio. Seven in total. Beans made the final confirmation on the record board.

The final test was over. The electronic screen went dark. The candidates left one after another. Saitama walked out of the venue and stood at the end of the corridor, taking something from his pocket—the broken wing of the Bloodthirsty Butterfly he had picked up beside the rock platform. He gently brushed the volcanic ash from its veins with his fingertip and placed it on the windowsill. Sea wind poured in through the small window, lifting the broken wing. It flipped several times beneath the lights before drifting toward Glasses Island.

Netero had somehow come up behind him. "But you didn't act just now."

"This is his family's business. If I got involved, it'd only make things more troublesome." Saitama paused. "But someone will bring him back. That spiky-haired kid."

With that, he turned and headed for the waiting room. The scent of hot pot sesame sauce still clung to his T-shirt. He had stood in the venue for most of the day and was getting hungry. But after taking two steps, he stopped and glanced back toward the direction Killua had been taken. The end of the corridor was already empty. Only staff members remained, cleaning the blood from the edge of the arena. He put his hands back into his pockets and continued toward the waiting room.