Gon saw an angel once.

It was at a time he hadn't quite been right in the head, sure, but he never believed it was an illusion, a figment of fantasy created by an unstable mind. Such a memory could not be crafted, neither by an outside force nor by his own subconscious. Not such a glowing memory.

It was in a haze of rage and blood, when vengeance and grief had clouded his senses and his new body, seemingly crafted by a god, had moved according to the wishes of a darkened heart, for he himself had retreated from control.

It was with the taste of tears in his mouth, the smell of death in his nostrils and a spray of blue blood in the air, non-human and almost repulsive for reasons he didn't care to understand anymore.

It was then that he saw him.

An anguished cry was what caught his attention, a cry that stirred something inside him. Was it his name that was being called? And in such a broken voice too, like ice cracking under his feet, leaving him a mere moment away from drowning.

Short. Short and bright and vaguely familiar and oh so ethereally, tragically beautiful. Skin so fair it seemed weaved from moonlight, limbs held stiffly yet still as graceful as a feline, sharp eyes opened wide, displaying twin irises of the most brilliant blue, and snowy hair that seemingly floated, engaged in an intricate dance with the nonexistent wind.

And he glowed.

It was the most unearthly sight Gon had ever witnessed, and the cries of his name made it even more surreal.

But it was all real. As real as the emptiness in his chest, as real as the blood dripping from his hands, as real as the headless body pouncing towards him.

He moved.

The angel moved.

And time stopped for just a moment.

He didn't feel the loss of his arm, even though he probably should have. He couldn't shake off this sense of familiarity as he watched from the back of his mind. His lips parted and his gaze met the angel's. He started speaking, saying something, but he didn't know what it was. The sense of familiarity grew stronger with every passing second and a name was just at the tip of his tongue as he absentmindedly watched Nen gathering at the stump of his right arm, not having noticed it at first.

At the very end, he managed to take control again, and for just a second, his brown gaze met blue. A blue dampened and yet at the same time brightened by despair. And, a deep sadness in his eyes and an apology he didn't understand on his lips, he smiled.

A blinding light engulfed them.

Months, or maybe years later, he would be fighting.

He would be losing.

That angel would appear before him once again, wreathed in lightning and righteous fury.

His eyes would widen in recognition.

And Gon would speak his name.

"Killua."