The Nen Contract

Chapter 6

"Can you cut that out?" said Killua irritably. He had rings under his eyes, and a stuffy cold.

Gon, who had been practicing his gyo and ren, let Killua's aura dispel.

"Sorry! I'm still practically useless to you as it is now, so I needed the practise." Gon explained.

Killua grumbled something incoherent and turned over. He was huddled in the corner of the airship's cargo hold. It had been three days since the Bondsmith had worked his unique nen ability, binding Gon to Killua's aura. He had warned at the time that the first week or so would be 'uncomfortable', as Gon's nen contract drew insane amounts away from Killua, leaving him exhausted and run down. 'Uncomfortable' is not the word Killua would use for it.

Uncomfortable is exactly the word Gon would use to describe using Killua's nen though. It felt like a huge invasion of privacy, especially since Killua had barely said a word to him. He could feel the character of aura that was coming off Killua. Gon thought it might reflect Killua's emotions – when Killua was annoyed at Gon (something that had happened frequently over the past few days, despite the lack of communication) his aura turned sour. Not as bad as Hisoka or Wing's malicious ren, but it still left Gon weak at the knees and with a pounding headache.

"You'll both be able to kill each other." the Bondsmith had half-explained to them cheerfully. Gon had wondered at that, but he was beginning to see how that could be the case. He could over-draw from Killua, and Killua could potentially fill his aura with bloodlust for Gon.

They were on their way to the Azian continent to find a port city after having decided that they needed to get to the 'New continent' where, last they had heard, Beyond Netero had been setting up a colony before they could do the real voyage to the Dark Continent. I wonder if we'll make it in time, thought Gon. They had no idea if the voyagers had set off already, as communication with the vessel had become intermittent as they got further out.

Gon winced as Killua started to cough. Without saying anything, Gon began to walk towards the cargo hold exit. I wish we could have got a better flight, Gon thought. This had been the fastest option though, so of course they had picked it. Even so, as Gon walked down the bare-metal corridor to the small kitchen that served the crew and the grand total of two passengers he wondered if different ship might have been the better choice, for Killua's sake. Gon poured a measure of hot soup into a bowl, carefully buttered some bread and placed it neatly upon a tray, then headed back to the cargo hold.

"Here you are, Killua." said Gon, placing the tray next to him.

There it is again, Gon thought as Killua accepted the food and began to eat. Gon stood stock still as sour aura washed over him, giving little hint of his considerable discomfort. After a while the pain subsided and Gon was able to return to the kitchen to get Killua a hot drink. He heated up some milk in a pan, poured it onto the cocoa powder he had put in a mug, gave it a whisk and added a little cream. Then he started back towards Killua. Gon was hit as soon as he stepped into the cargo bay. Bad aura. Tremors ran through his arms, threatening to spill the cocoa as Gon edged his way across the tread plate floor. Killua looked at him with a suspicious frown.

"H-here. Y-you. Are." Gon managed as he pressed the mug into Killua's hands, then stepped back.

"What's wrong wi- Gon!" Killua shouted, as he collapsed.

The last thing Gon saw as he sank into unconsciousness was Killua scrambling toward him with a concerned look on his face.

*************

When Gon woke up, he opened his eyes to find Killua standing over him.

"About time!" Killua said. "The doctors say there is nothing wrong with you! My sister can't wait this long! Are you trying..."

Killua's rant faded out as Gon blacked out once again.

*************

Killua stared down at Gon. He was asleep again. Dammit, he thought, what's causing this? It's really pissing me off!

Killua would not allow himself to be worried or sad. For now, the better tool was anger – it allowed him to keep a relatively clear head. Despair would only swallow him up, after all. That idiot, acting like he cared. Fetching me food and drink, who does he think he is – my maid?

Killua sighed, thanked the doctor he had paid to come out to the airfield, and looked out towards the coast. They had made it to the port.