It had been a year since Gon and Killua had walked side by side.

A year since their paths had diverged—Gon returning to Whale Island, stripped of his Nen, determined to rebuild himself from the ground up; Killua leaving with Alluka, determined to show his sibling the world she had been denied.

The year had been long. For Gon, it was filled with quiet mornings, sweat, and aching muscles. He trained without aura, without the familiar hum of Nen, relying only on his body, his will, and the stubborn fire that refused to die inside him. For Killua, the year was filled with laughter and discovery, Alluka’s wide eyes drinking in every new sight, every new taste, every new freedom.

But through it all, Killua never stopped thinking of Gon.

Never stopped missing him.

Never stopped feeling the hollow ache of distance.

And so, one evening, Killua arrived at Whale Island.

Mito welcomed him warmly, her smile soft with recognition. The grandmother, too, remembered him—the silver-haired boy who had once stood beside Gon, fierce and loyal. Alluka was quickly taken in, her gentle nature winning hearts as Mito guided her inside.

Killua, however, couldn’t stay. Not yet.

He knew where Gon would be.

The forest was alive with the sounds of night—cicadas humming, leaves whispering in the breeze. Killua moved silently, his steps instinctive, his senses sharp. He didn’t need to search long.

There, in a clearing, Gon was training. His fists struck the air, his body moving with raw determination. Sweat glistened on his skin, his breath heavy, his movements relentless. He hadn’t noticed Killua’s presence.

Killua stood at the edge of the clearing, watching. For a moment, he said nothing. He simply looked at his best friend—the boy who had once changed his life, the boy who had taught him what it meant to choose his own path.

His chest tightened.

A year was too long.

Finally, Killua spoke, his voice cutting through the night.

“… Gon.”

Gon froze, his body stiffening at the sound. Slowly, he turned, eyes wide, disbelief written across his face.

Killua smirked faintly, though his heart was pounding.

“Tch. You’re still the same idiot… training like crazy even without Nen.”

He stepped forward, silver hair catching the moonlight, his gaze locked on Gon.

“You didn’t think I’d stay away forever, did you?”

The words hung in the air, heavier than any punch, sharper than any blade. Gon’s silence said enough—shock, relief, and something deeper flickering in his eyes.

Killua closed the distance, his smirk fading into something more honest.

“Let’s not waste another year apart.”