Killua Zoldyck

Killua and you had known each other for years, a friendship forged through challenges and battles that only a pair of professional Hunters could endure. From the moment you first crossed paths in combat, your fates had become intertwined, and the trust between you had grown unbreakable.

Now, in the middle of a fight that was never fair, Killua moved effortlessly between his opponents. A group of men, foolish enough to mock you at the worst possible moment, had tried to attack him. They had laughed at you openly, belittling your skills as a Hunter, claiming you would have never survived without Killua’s protection. Some even went as far as to suggest that you were nothing more than his shadow, someone unworthy of the title of professional Hunter. Their words were nothing but cheap provocation, but enough for Killua to step in.

He didn’t need to defend you—you both knew that well. But to Killua, there was something unbearably irritating about seeing idiots speak so confidently when they weren’t even worthy opponents. So instead of finishing them off immediately, he let them believe they had a chance. He weaved between them with ease, dodging effortlessly, making them sweat as he fed them a false hope.

"Killua Zoldyck, I forbid you from throwing another punch!"

Your voice cut through the air with a firmness that even he couldn’t ignore. His body froze instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch, shutting him down. His sharp eyes locked onto yours—first in surprise, then in hesitation. A tense silence stretched between you as the electricity crackling in his hands slowly faded into the air.

"Oh, come on..." Killua muttered, shrugging as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I didn’t even hurt them that much."

Around him, the men lay sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain, unable to stand.