Killua and Gon walked along the path in a comfortable silence. They were cutting through a forest in the Republic of Padokia and would soon reach their destination—Heavens Arena.
Gon still searched for Ging, and they had heard a rumor he would be at the Battle of Olympia in a few months' time. They didn't know in what capacity he would be there, or if the rumor was even true at all. It was the only lead they had found in a long time, however, so they decided it was worth a shot and set out to become floor masters to compete in the tournament.
Anyway, as long as they were together, they would be happy.
As Killua stepped quietly on the dirt path, hands in his pockets, he thought about how far they had come in the five years since they met during the Hunter Exam. The two twelve-year-olds, one with a skateboard and one with a fishing rod—how naïve they had been, even though they didn't feel so at the time. They didn't even know what Nen was, and certainly had no idea of the trials they would face.
Killua smirked as he surmised they now, as seventeen year olds, would probably blow through the 200s of Heavens Arena as they had floors 50-190 when they were younger. They had only grown stronger, better, and still trained every day. They were growing up into truly powerful young men.
As the two continued through the forest, the wind rustling the leaves from time to time, Killua's heart grew a bit heavy. He had always been the more mature of the two, and recently it seemed the evidence of this grew more and more apparent. Sometimes it even felt as though Killua was leaving Gon behind, even betraying him, all because Killua felt he was growing up faster.
Killua had a secret—he loved Gon. He was the light to his darkness. Killua had known their relationship was special for a long time and had struggled with it, calling it "friendship" in his mind as Gon had always done. But it was so much more than friendship. And as Killua was becoming more and more of an adult (and Gon alongside him), new and powerful emotions and desires overcame him again and again. He wanted Gon in ways he knew had nothing to do with friendship.
But Gon showed no evidence of similar feelings. Over the years there had been so many moments—near defeats, cold nights—when Killua thought maybe this is it, this is when we will let it all out in the open and become lovers. But it never happened. It never evenalmost happened. Gon was always the picture of innocence and naïveté, even now. Killua had grown up, and Gon didn't seem to have followed.
Because Killua loved Gon, however, most of the time it was enough just to be by his side. After all, Gon had shown no sincere romantic interest in anyone; perhaps Killua had just grown up faster and Gon just needed more time. He had always been the more mature one. But he felt he was leaving Gon behind, and it hurt not to be able to show Gon his whole self. He never wanted to keep a secret from Gon, but what could he do?
Sometimes, when it became especially painful, Killua would contemplate telling Gon how he felt. Only moments ago, for instance, Gon had flashed Killua a smile which made his heart melt. But it wasn't worth the risk—without Gon, life seemed pointless. He could maybe bare rejection, but if it cost him their friendship Killua felt he would die. No, it would always be better to remain by his side, simply hurting from time to time.
Gon listened absent-mindedly to the wind sneaking through the trees around them. He recognized the chirp of two Warblers fighting over territory against other soft noises: the rushing of a small creek several hundred meters away, the soft sound of his and Killua's rubber soles padding on the dirt path.
Everything was so calm. Everything had been so calm. His now years-long search for Ging had fizzled, and the two boys had been following one weak lead after another for some time now. Sometimes he felt the only reason he continued his search was because he refused to give up on anything, and because no other goal or life-direction had called to him. Having Killua at his side too meant he was always at least content.
