when they came for me, there was no one left to fight
Summary: Gon is fire, tears, and blood.
Author's note: Chimera Ants has wrecked me. My poor children.
First they came for the tree-sitters, but I didn't say anything, because I am not a tree-sitter.
Then they came for the squatters, but I didn't say anything, because I am not a squatter.
Then they came for the anarchists, but I didn't say anything, because I am not an anarchist.
When they came for me, there was no one left to fight.
U.S. 2008-Shades of Germany 1938
Killua found him sitting on a park bench in the late evening, just when the rain was starting to become a torrential downpour. Gon hardly seemed to notice and the white haired boy only shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling a brief irritation at the bangs plastering themselves against his forehead. Killua sat down and fixed his eyes on the grotto of trees in front of him. "You could catch a cold."
Gon gave a half-hearted, one shoulder shrug. "I don't mind."
His voice was quiet, and far more contemplative than its usual melody. Despite the lack of light, a shadow seemed to cast itself over his eyes and he looked down at his loosely interlocked hands. Gon didn't even feel the rain. The ice in his veins couldn't settle and was instead replaced by fire that burned hot—too hot—and gave him the kind of warmth only achieved by sticking your hands in the flames and getting burned.
He didn't mind.
In his head, he saw only images of Kite-san and the monstrous beast who took his arm all the while smiling and licking the blood from her lips. In his head, he saw only his failures and weaknesses, his naivety and recklessness.
The price for their ignorance was paid in the torn ligaments of the earth and guilty tears. Gon's jaw clenched so tightly his teeth clicked and something deep in his soul began to shake with fury. His hands turned into fists that bunched soaked, green material between fingers that suffocated and Killua turned his gaze onto his friend, and nearly did a double take when he realized he couldn't find him.
Cerulean eyes dampened under the rain (that may have been from the heavens themselves) and Killua realized Gon wouldn't turn back now because he'd gone too far. He would save Kite, but tear himself apart in the process.
"I don't care what it takes," Gon seethed, almost too quiet to hear above the weather.
"I know." Killua whispered, but his friend gave no indication of whether or not he was heard. Just be careful, he wanted to say—but that would mean wearing his heart on his sleeve, which he wasn't entirely sure he really knew how to do, especially after everything he's ever been through.
Once cheerful amber eyes turned into a reflection of hell's wrath and Gon turned his face skyward, hardening his resolve and vowing to never be weak again. He didn't care how long it would take—months, years (it didn't matter)—he would do it in weeks. He would rip the monster apart with his bare heads, he would utterly destroy her until she begged for mercy; he would crush her bones and hold her skull like a trophy, leave nothing but a pile of entrails as evidence of his conquest.
Gon relaxed his fists, letting the rain wash away the blood he drew. "You should go inside," he advised, not turning his head. "It's raining pretty hard now."
"It's okay," Killua shrugged. "I don't mind."