Killua's Choice

Killua stopped at the corner of the corridor.

Outside the window was no longer the Forest Sea. Vast swathes of earth had been hurled into the air and smashed back down. Centuries-old trees had been snapped at the waist, their breaks not clean cuts from blades but pulverized by some blunt weapon wielded with incomprehensible force. Farther off, the training grounds on the back mountain had lost half their dome. The stone gate lay embedded in broken rubble, its dragon carvings glinting with a dark bluish-green chill beneath the moonlight.

The entire Zoldyck estate looked as though a colossal beast had stepped on it.

Killua narrowed his eyes. It wasn't Nanika—when that one used her ability, black Nen traces remained behind, like the charred edges of paper. But there was nothing on these ruins, only pure, brutal physical destruction.

"Saitama," he blurted out.

As the name rolled off his tongue, Killua suddenly understood why Silva had chosen this moment to see him. It wasn't because he had run home and then tried to escape again. It was because an even more dangerous guest had arrived at the house.

He quickened his pace.

Silva's private chambers were unlocked. Killua pushed the door open, and the wind drawn in through the crack made the candle flame sway violently, throwing warped shadows across the walls.

Silva sat behind a low table, still as a boulder. He did not look up. His fingers rested on his knees, and fresh abrasions marked his knuckles.

"You're finally back," Silva said, his voice deeper than usual.

"...Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize." Silva finally raised his eyes. The catlike eyes so identical to Killua's held a strange translucence in the candlelight. "You followed your instincts. We Zoldycks have been assassins for generations. The talent is inborn. We were born to kill. But, Killua—"

He paused, his gaze scraping across Killua's face like a blade.

"I once promised you this. When you became an adult, you would have the right to choose. Spend your life as an assassin, or stop being one. It would all be up to you."

Killua's fingertips tightened around the doorknob. He thought of Gon's sleeping face at the inn, Kurapika's eyes as he suppressed his hatred, and the beer foam that had splashed everywhere when Leorio raised a bottle and shouted, "We're companions!"

If he didn't go back, they would keep charging into danger. Without him watching over them, Gon's reckless nature would sooner or later get him shattered against some monster.

"I want to be with them." Killua lifted his head. His voice was quiet, but every word drove into the air like a nail into wood. "Not just to fool around. I want to be their friend, travel with them, and... protect them."

Silva remained silent for a long time.

The candle crackled and spat out a spark.

"Fine," he said.

Killua's shoulders had just begun to relax when Silva's next words turned his blood cold.

"But you must promise me one thing. Swear a blood oath." Silva bit his fingertip, and a dark red bead of blood welled up, taking on an eerie hue in the candlelight. "You must never betray your friends. The moment you abandon your companions, abandon your bonds—"

He stared at Killua, enunciating each word.

"You will have renounced your family and renounced the Zoldycks. From that point on, we will no longer be your parents and siblings. We will be your enemies. The entire family will hunt you until you die."

Killua looked at that drop of blood. If he betrayed them, he would lose more than his friends—he would lose his life. But if he stayed, he would lose his friends right now—Gon and the others were outside desperately pushing the gate, and he knew exactly how heavy it was.

"I swear." He did not hesitate.

The door was violently thrown open.

Kikyo's electronic eyes flashed madly, so rapidly they seemed ready to short-circuit. She lunged forward and seized Killua's shoulders, her nails digging through his clothes into his flesh.

"No! Silva! How can you let him go?!" Her shrill voice tore through the air. "Those outsiders will get him killed! Do you know how many people outside want to tear him apart without the Zoldyck name?! They'll gnaw him down until not even his bones remain!"

She turned to Killua, his calm face reflected in her electronic eyes. "Killua, stay! Mommy will give you a new interrogation room, buy you the latest electric shock toys—whatever you want—"

"Let him go." Silva raised a hand, and a tangible pressure of Nen stretched between him and Kikyo. His voice remained calm, yet carried unquestionable weight. "Killua has already made his choice. Even if he is hurt, hits a wall, or regrets it someday, it will be the path he chose himself."

He looked at Killua, and something flickered deep in his eyes.

"One day, he will recognize his destiny. Or—" Silva paused. "He will carve out a path none of us have ever seen."

Kikyo's sob caught in her throat. She did not dare defy Silva, but the red glow of her electronic eyes remained nailed to Killua's back like a curse.

Killua turned away. Something inside him finally settled—not relief, but a cold clarity. He no longer struggled against the restraints of his family. He headed straight for the butlers' quarters. Gotoh no longer needed to prepare a training regimen for Gon and the others, because he was going to pick them up himself.

The scent of food drifted from the direction of the banquet hall.

Saitama was putting the last piece of marbled wagyu into his mouth. He looked up and saw Killua striding over from the service corridor, a backpack slung over his shoulder, his steps so light that he looked less like someone leaving an interrogation room than a student who had just finished an exam.

"Saitama!" Killua's eyes lit up, but then his gaze fell on the ruins outside, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "...Did you do that to the back mountain?"

"Yeah. The gate was too heavy. Accidentally." Saitama spoke as casually as if discussing the weather. "Silva prepared hot pot. Want some?"

"I don't have an appetite right now." Killua shook his head and asked eagerly, "Where are Gon and the others?"

"At the Trial Gate." Saitama looked toward the Forest Sea. His expression did not change, but his words carried something beneath them. "Go wait in the butlers' quarters. But—"

He paused.

"That gate might not be quite what they think it is anymore."

Killua froze, wanting to ask what he meant, but Saitama had already lowered his head and continued picking up meat. He could only suppress his doubts and hurry away.

Forest Sea training grounds.

The gravel-strewn ground was crisscrossed with furrows. Over the past twenty days, the weighted rings had repeatedly crushed over it, plowing scars of varying depth into the earth.

Gon unwound the last loop of bandages. The gauze fell to the ground in a small, ghastly white heap. He flexed his fingers—his joints were nimble, without any stiffness or pain. The fracture had healed, leaving only faint red scars like slender snakes coiled across his skin.

Gotoh set down the stopwatch, his gaze lingering on Gon's fingers for a moment. "Take off the vest. Try."

Leorio and Kurapika tore off their fifty-kilogram weights. They pressed both hands against the gate, muscles tightening, teeth clenched hard.

The Trial Gate let out a dull groan and opened a crack, then—

It jammed.

Leorio's arms began to shake violently, while Kurapika's breathing turned into the wheeze of a broken bellows. The gate stood like a mountain, utterly unmoved as it mocked them.

Gon tore off the last strip of bandage and stepped up to the gate.

"Let me."

The three stood side by side, their palms pressed against the cold dragon-carved relief. Gon felt the tremor beneath his hands. It was the first time in twenty days that they had truly touched this gate—before, even approaching it would have sent them flying from the pressure.

"One—"

Leorio's sweat dripped into the gap between the doors.

"Two—"

Kurapika's Nen began gathering at his fingertips.

"Three!"

The muscles of all three erupted with one final roar. Their bones creaked beneath the strain, and sweat slammed into the gravel. The Trial Gate thundered like rolling lightning and slowly opened inward. Dust shook loose from the dragon carvings as moonlight poured through the widening gap.

Until it stood fully open.

The three collapsed onto the ground, their lungs like broken bellows.

"It opened..." Leorio raised a fist, his voice hoarse. "It really opened!"

Kurapika leaned against the gatepost, his blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, yet a smile curled at his lips. "Twenty days. Gon, your hand—"

"It's completely healed!" Gon sprang to his feet, his face covered in ash and shredded bandages, his eyes dazzlingly bright. "Let's go! Let's find Killua!"

Gotoh nodded, showing the faintest hint of a smile. "Follow the road to the mountaintop. Someone is waiting for you."

Xikean leaned against the wall of the guardhouse, flipping a coin. "I thought you'd run away halfway through. Not bad. You've got some guts."

The three got up and ran toward the mountaintop along the gravel road.

They had not gone far when a white line stretched across the middle of the road.

A girl stood beyond it. Her skin was dark, and her short orange hair whipped in the night wind. She held a long whip wrapped in faint electric currents that crackled softly in the darkness. There was no warmth in her large eyes, only blade-sharp vigilance.

She raised her whip, its tip aimed at the three of them, and said coldly,

"Opening the Trial Gate doesn't mean you get to see Master Killua. If you want to pass, get through me first."