Killua stirred and groaned. He felt awful. His head hurt, and so did his back. His ears rang loudly, blocking out all other sound. He couldn't feel his legs and arms. He didn't know where he was or how he came to be there. All he knew was that he was in pain and he didn't like it.

Then feeling slowly came back to him. First came the tips of his ears; not a very useful body part, but it was a start. Then came his legs, and his arms, and the rest of his body down to his toes. He moved experimentally. There didn't seem to be any permanent damage, and the pain was going away already. This was a good thing.

For a moment, he thought he heard some one scream his name. They sounded sad and scared, and he wanted to help them badly. But then the scream died away, and he was sure that he'd just imagined it. The only sound he could hear was the sound of the ocean.

He was on a beach; he could tell that by the extensive amount of sand and the large body of water next to him. However, this seemed different from any of the beached he'd been on. There were no people on this beach. No tanners, or tourists, or beach bums. He seemed to be the only person there.

Suddenly it hit him. Gon wasn't there either. He looked around wildly for his friend. Where was he? He wasn't anywhere on the beach.

Killua paused. How did he get here anyways? Were they in a boat crash? Had he been on boat recently? He racked his brain but couldn't remember anything. What had happened? Where was Gon?

Near panicked, he ran up and down the beach, searching for his friend. What if they had been in a boat crash? What if Gon had drowned? But he was such a good swimmer, how could he? Had sharks eaten him? Had the wreckage pinned him down? Was he de-

Killua froze. No. Gon couldn't be dead. There was no way that Gon could be dead. He wouldn't allow Gon to be dead. Gon. Was. Not. Dead

"Gon isn't dead!" he shouted to the sky. The white clouds didn't answer. His words didn't even echo.

He sat down on the sand, shaking. "Gon isn't dead," he whispered. He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face into his arms. Perhaps they had been in a boat crash. And perhaps Gon had made it to the lifeboats but Killua had been thrown into the ocean and washed up on a desert island. Perhaps Gon would come to rescue him and then they'd hug and tell each other how much they'd missed the other and all would be right with the world. Yes, that sounded all right.

"Hello," came a friendly female voice above him. He looked up. Standing in front of him was a tall figure in a black cloak.

He stood and frowned up at her. "Who are you?"

"No 'Hello' back?"

"I don't trust people who wear long black cloaks with hoods that obscure their faces."

The, probably female, figure laughed. "Oh, is that all? I'm sorry, it's just that I burn real easily, so I like to keep my face covered, but if you insist." She threw back her hood. Killua could see why she wanted to keep out of the sun. Her skin was pale, nearly white, a sharp contrast with her black hair and obsidian eyes. In some ways she reminded him of Illumi. But there was a soft friendliness in her eyes in smile that he knew his brother could never imitate. For some reason he trusted her, though he knew he had every right not to.

"I must say," she said, "I was rather surprised when I saw you here. I thought you'd be smarter than that."

Killua held up his hand. "Wait a second," he said. "Where am I?"

She stared at him a bit, looking confused. Then her expression melted into one of sympathy. "Oh, honey. You don't know where you are?"

Killua shook his head. He wasn't sure he liked the way she was looking at him. She looked so . . . sad.

She knelt down to his level and put a hand on his shoulder. "Honey, this is a variation of the river Styx. I'm one of the many Charons. Sweetie, you're dead."

Killua's brain stopped working. He jerked away from her and fell back on the sand. She suddenly looked a lot more cold, and menacing. His head whirled.

"No. No way. There's no way I'm dead."

She sighed. "I'm afraid you are, dear."

He began to shake. Dead? He was dead? How could he be dead? He made death, he didn't experience it. He couldn't die. There were things he had to do, people he had to take care of. An image of Gon flashed before him. Dead . . .

He began to shake and tears filled his eyes. "How?" he managed to choke out.

She shook her head. "You fell onto a landmine."

"A . . . landmine?" She nodded. "But I don't remember any landmine."

"Few people remember how they die. It's an unconscious suppression. You may never remember it, no matter how hard you try."

He looked down at the sand. "Will . . . will you tell me?" he whispered.

She bit her lip. "Are you sure you want to know?"

He looked up at her, a few tears still clinging to the corners of his eyes. "Yes."

She sat down beside him. "Well, you and your friend, the short one with the black hair, were chasing this man. He had a plastic card in his hands, a license if I were to venture a guess. He led you into this empty field. There were landmines everywhere, but your friend didn't recognize them. The man jumped over one of them, but your friend tried to run on through. You grabbed his arm, but he pulled away. When he did, you lost your balance and fell backwards and then . . ." She stopped.

Killua stared at her. "That can't be true."

"It is. We all watch mortals die. It's something to pass the time in oblivion." Killua couldn't answer. "I must say," she pressed on, "You chose a pretty stupid way to die."

He looked at her. "What?"

"Dying for your friend like that. Don't you think that it was just a little dumb? You could have let him die. I mean, he's just a useless mortal and-"

"SHUT UP!" shouted Killua. "Just shut up! Gon's not useless! And you know what? I'm happy that I died that way. I'm glad that I got to give my life for Gon's. And if I had the chance I'd die all over again, I'd die a hundred times over if I had to, just so Gon could live."

She stared at him. "Why?"

"Because he's my friend and I love him!" snapped Killua, his words ringing with angry truth.

The woman paused for a moment, then looked out at the sea. "Friendship, love . . . You forget these things when you've been here for so long. I suppose I had them once, before I died." She looked at him. "I'm glad you still remember."

Silence stretched between them. Killua didn't move. He was afraid that if he moved the anger would go away. He didn't want the anger to go away; the anger was the only thing keeping out the sorrow.

The woman stood. "Well, I suppose we'd better get going." A long pole appeared in her hand. Killua noticed a gondola-type boat in the water, waiting for him.

"Does everyone come through here?" he asked.

"Everyone from your world."

"Then I'll stay here, thanks, and wait for Gon to come."

She frowned. "But that might be years from now. He might not even remember you. Why on earth would you want to wait for so long on the chance that he might know who you are? Why wait to receive a broken heart?"

Killua smiled at her. "He'll remember me because I'm his friend and I always will be. I'll wait for him because I'm his friend. Then we'll go on together."

She stared at him for a long time. Then she sighed. "I really shouldn't, you know. But friendship like that . . ." She shook her head. "I haven't seen anyone like you for almost ten decades. I shouldn't, but I think I will."

She turned around and got into her boat. With a shove, she was in the water. She looked back.

"You know, you're really lucky. Most don't get this choice." With that she left, fading into nothingness.

Killua lay down, got comfortable, and waited.