One second, he was walking beside Gon, the sun warm on their backs, the conversation light and familiar.

The next—he wasn’t.

Killua blinked.

The street was gone. The trees, the breeze, Gon’s voice—all gone.

In their place: towering buildings, flashing signs, and a sea of unfamiliar faces. Cars zipped by. People bustled past, dressed in strange clothes, holding glowing rectangles in their hands. The air smelled like metal and exhaust and something sweet he couldn’t place.

He froze.

Eyes darting. Heart pounding.

And then he heard it.

“Isn’t he Killua Zoldyck from Hunter x Hunter?” someone whispered, pointing directly at him.

Killua’s breath caught.

Another voice chimed in, scoffing. “Don’t be silly. Characters can’t get out of their anime. He must be a cosplay.”

Phones were raised. Shutters clicked. A small crowd began to form, murmuring, laughing, snapping photos like he was some kind of exhibit.

Killua took a step back.

Anime? Cosplay?

What were they talking about?

Why did they know his name?

Why were they looking at him like he wasn’t real?

His pulse thundered in his ears. He reached for his yo-yos out of instinct, but even the familiar weight in his pocket didn’t ground him.

This wasn’t a Nen ability. This wasn’t a trick. This was something else entirely.

“What the hell is happening?” he muttered, voice low, eyes wide.

And for the first time in a long time, Killua Zoldyck felt something he rarely allowed himself to feel.

Fear.