A/N: reuploaded for quality
I don't have a fear of flying; I have a fear of crashing.
– Billy Bob Thornton
It isn't that Killua fancies Makoto, because he most certainly does not.
It isn't that her midnight hair is always up in a slick, high ponytail that sways with each step, or that her eyes, although bottomless pits of darkness, refract brightly the various shades of onyx - honestly, how is that even possible? – because it most certainly is not.
It isn't even the fact that she consistently dons a dark, hooded coat that matches her dark-colored shorts that pair with her dark-colored boots and looks like a damned black bird all the time, because it most certainly is not.
It's just-
All passengers for flight KZ615 to Yorkshin City, please gather your belongings. We will be boarding momentarily.
She is an open book and a mystery all at once. A confusing, disorienting, disconcerting simplicity. Sometimes he doesn't know what to make of her, and other times, he can't seem to understand her at all. But in those rare, fleeting moments of clarity where he does, he realizes that she might be the only person in the world who understands him, too.
Regardless, whatever the hell this is, Killua doesn't know or care, because right now, she is approaching him, and he is just content with knowing what isn't.
"Ki-llua!" She sing-songs, and Killua smirks to himself, sinking further into the uncomfortable seating as he enjoys the honey-coated, threat-laced quality of her voice.
"Hm?" The white-haired boy hums, feigning ignorance, tongue prodding at a chocolate-flavored lollipop in his mouth. Or used to be in his mouth, because Makoto takes the liberty of yanking it straight from his lips, nearly pulling out his teeth in the process. "Motherfuc-"
She raises a brow and dares him to finish that thought.
Killua likes to think he's intimidating, because he's a former-assassin-turn-pro-hunter and all, but then again, Killua also likes to think it's perfectly reasonable to spend 20million zenni all on dessert over the span of 4 years, so there goes his credit. The point is, whatever Killua likes to think he is, somehow, someway, Makoto always finds a way to make him think again.
"I called your name three times already; I thought you'd be eager to see Gon." Makoto admonishes with a 'tsk,' one hand twirling the boy's much-missed lollipop as the other reaches out, curing one finger in a beckoning motion. "I know you heard me."
Killua looks at her outreached hand and snorts to himself. What a silly gesture it is, as they both know he has no need for it… but it doesn't stop him from taking her hand and lifting himself with it.
"I am excited to see Gon; it's just that you're a pain in my ass, is all." The silver-haired boy pouts, patting himself down and swing his favorite moss-green backpack over a shoulder, utilizing only two of the four straps. "Honestly, what is Kurapika thinking pairing me with such an annoying-"
"Your way with words is very touching," Makoto breaks into a sarcastic smile, "no really, you just know exactly what a girl wants to hear."
At that, the corner of his lip tilts just the slightest. And then, much gentler, he adds, "and what does a girl want to hear?"
And god, Makoto really hates transmuters. It's not that she necessarily thinks he's a 'whimsical liar,' but he always manages to throw her off-guard. She hates being off-guard. "A girl wants to hear 'Yes Makoto, I'm coming!'"
As soon as the words left her mouth and she sees the beginning of that shit-eating grin, Makoto is already kicking herself for walking straight into that one. "Oh?" He wiggles his brow. She wants to slap it right off. "A girl will be happy to know that can be arranged."
She refuses to redden at that. "A girl is about to kick you in the balls."
"Aw, you're no fun," he pouts, starting towards the boarding gate.
"Preposterous," she mocks, but lets herself be guided forward by a warm hand on her back. "I'm the most fun."
"More like the most irritating," he eyes her sideways, "give me back my candy."
She releases the half-eaten lollipop and waves it in the air, forcing him to pry it out of her fingers and hurriedly stuffing it back into his mouth. The exaggerated gesture is a little sad and a little sweet, Makoto thinks even as she rolls her eyes at him, for it may be one of the only things that remind people just how young the boy truly is. A few days past 18. Someone so young should never have had to endure so much. She keeps the thought to herself, though.
"You're a child." She rolls her eyes with a shake of her head instead, but it is easy to see the unmasked fondness wedging into every crinkle by her eyes.
"Ok old hag," he sneers. "Like I said- you're. no. fun." As if to emphasize, his fingers prod at her with each syllable.
Makoto lolls her head back against his shoulder, a lazy smirk stretched out on her face. "I'm so much fun that you won't be able handle it." Then, with a wink, she twists out of his grasp and runs ahead, leaving Killua to choke on his lollipop.
Ging Freecs remains ever-so-elusive as per usual, Killua sighs, resting his chin on a propped-up hand as he stares at his reflection in the window. Although searching for Ging Freecs hadn't been the primary (or secondary) objective of their assignment, there was a lead that he and Makoto pursued as well, only to come up completely empty.
The hunt had gone on for nearly three years after the Chimera Ants' incident, and Gon, Killua, and Makoto had all decided that, for better or for worse, it would be helpful to stick around Yorkshin until they decide on something better. After all, this is the city where not only goods are exchanged, but information as well.
Now that three years have passed in the blink of an eye, Killua is starting to be convinced that, although amazing in his own right, Ging Freecss might be a complete idiot like his son. The man could have easily stayed and given his son the closure on why he chose to be a deadbeat, but instead, he had chosen to vanish into thin air after the Hunter's Election. After all that Killua had to go through to revive Gon, too! Gon says it's because he didn't technically catch Ging, but frankly, the ex-assassin couldn't not be convinced to give a damn this time. Even Makoto thanked Leorio for punching the world's best hunter in the face. Either way, until something better comes along, they need to stay in Kurapika's good graces to stay on the Nostrad Acquisition Team. Killua initially turned his nose up at the prospect, but the reality was that they needed a job, and Nostrad needed people to do his bidding.
Suddenly, a loud yawn from beside him interrupts his thought. He turns to see Makoto sighing contently into her seat, face rubbing against the soft fabric.
"A little louder, the rest of First Class didn't hear you." Killua smirks.
"Are you a dick to everyone or is it just me?" She mumbles, kicking off her shoes and curling up, making a miserable attempt to hike the provided blanket to her chest whilst keeping her arms tucked in. Another yawn escapes her lips involuntarily.
"Just you," Killua raises a brow and it's not concern. It's not. "Are you really that tired?"
Makoto hums an affirmative. "I ended up sorting the intel after you went to bed. I don't really care about Nostrad's rivals or anything, but you know how Kurapika is. He's gonna give us an earful if it's not alphabetically sorted and highlighted in all the colors of the rainbow or whatever."
"Let him nag. You're not his secretary." Killua leans over and pulls the thin sheet up to the girl's neck, tucking it securely around her shoulders. She knows he doesn't need the thanks, but she nudges his hand with her chin anyway.
"It's fine. Regardless, I'll finally have 10 hours of peace and quiet to sleep now."
"Speak for yourself. I'll have to hear you snore all the way back to Yorkshin." The silver-haired hunter utters with a long-suffering sigh.
"Hmm." She closes her eyes, leaning back. "I want you to know that, under this blanket, I'm flipping you off."
Makoto misses the wide smile on his face then, but she does feel the weight of his head on her shoulder, his untamed silvery head of hair tickling vulnerable patches on her neck. In fact, it's the last thing she remembers before blissful blissful sleep comes to claim her.
Killua is jostled awake by the turbulence more so than by the soft chatters of the passengers. A light sleeper he always was. He blinks awake just in time to see the flight attendant passing a beverage to the woman in front of him.
The man reaches him with the cart next. "Sir, what would you-" Before he could finish the question, the young hunter is already bringing his index finger to his lips, pointing to the sleeping form beside him. The flight attendant pauses, then smiles in understanding before proceeding.
"Ah- wait! I still wanted-" Killua sits up, but it's too late. The man is already half way down the next aisle. "Ugh. Screw it." He mutters before turning to the still-unconscious Makoto. "You really are a pain in the ass."
For a moment he thinks she hears him, for she switches position ever-so-slightly, but her breath eventually evens out. Sighing, he leans back to stare at that face – sunburned cheeks framed by a mussed-up day-old bun, lips slightly cracked thanks to the dryness of the cabin air, tanned neck bent in an impossible position. She should be uncomfortable, but no, not at all. If nothing else, Makoto is a picture of serenity.
It's a few minutes later that Killua realizes he had been staring and quickly turns away.
"What the hell am I doing?"
"Hey, porcupine, will you sit still?!" Makoto's voice pierces through the heavy air, jerking her four male counterparts out of their semi-disoriented state.
Killus is the first to break the silence with a guttural moan, tensing as the girl presses a cold towel to his scar-ridden back. "Stop it, you're just making it worse! Gon, tell her!"
"Killua, please." Kurapika sighs, rubbing his temple, his usually calm façade cracking in the pale moonlight. Sharp eyes are trained on the blurring trees through the train window, and there is a vigilance about him, a tension that hasn't quite let up. "Just let her do her job."
Gon, the traitor, agrees with a nod. "Yeah Killua, please?"
"It's not her - ow!" the assassin glares behind him, but the huntress makes no move to acknowledge him. She applies the cooling balm with practiced ease, firm pressure and infinite tenderness all in one. It's an unusual sensation that puts the silver-haired boy ill at ease. "-job to fix me!"
"Listen to me," comes Kurapika's strained voice. "You, of all people, should know that your family didn't agree with you leaving. You should be grateful to Makoto. If it weren't for her, we'd all be dead."
"You also forgot to tell us that Illumi's crazy." Leorio quips, downing the rest of the drink he was nursing. He winces at the burn as it goes down. "I still can't believe he tried to ambush us when we were already leaving."
"That's right Killua," Gon piles on, all doe-eyed and sincere, causing his best friend to scowl even more. "Makko-chan sensed him coming before any of us, or else we might not have gotten away."
"You heard him," the older man grins, dropping a heavy hand onto his silvery head. "so be a good boy and sit still, hmm?"
"Get off me, Rio-leo." Killua shakes him off with a snarl, earning himself a glare from the girl he categorically chooses to ignore. "Aren't you the doctor? Why are you letting her-"
"Hurt my hand, remember?" Leorio waves a sling'd-arm for emphasis. Makoto moves over to his front, a grim expression on her face as she studies the lighter burn on his stomach, accompanied by a myriad of fresh whip wounds. Nice little going-away present, courtesy of Milluki.
"Look, I know I'm not the first choice," Makoto whispers, an out-of-character little voice trying its darndest not to waver, "but I'm the only one you've got right now, ok? Hate me, fine, but hate me after."
The assassin softens almost instantaneously. "Don't be stupid, I don't hate you."
"It's ok if you do." She continues softly, the taste of regret and guilt bitter on her tongue. "It was partly my fault after all."
"I told you not to be stupid," he hisses, peering at her through one eye, desperately trying to ignore the sharp sting of the ointment. She is hardly unscathed herself, the idiot girl who willingly broke into his deathtrap of a home to get him. She doesn't get to claim the blame, too.
Makoto flashes him a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, a careful finger rubbing salve into the reddening flesh numbly. Killua sucks in a sharp breath.
The cruelty of it all is unbearable to look at, the way his skin tears and chars – it's- it's all too much. Never mind the way his wrists and ankles are rubbed raw by the chains. And then there's the lighter burn on his stomach. Burns are the worst, just a constant stream of searing pain bubbling beneath your skin. And when the time comes, you have to peel off the dead tissues before new ones can regenerate.
Makoto exhales a trembling breath. Who in their right mind would subject someone to this? What kind of monster would one need to be to cause this incommensurable pain? And Killua had taken it all on without making a sound. He didn't scream and he didn't cry; he didn't even do so much as flinch.
But sitting before her, Killua pants, beads of cold sweat gathering on his forehead. She just wants to gather him in her arms and make it all better. However, as soon as she reaches for him, the boy swipes her hand away.
Onyx eyes turn up angrily to meet his piercing blues. "It's not like I want to hurt you, you know that, don't you?"
"But you're going to anyway." He snorts, voice hard. "You know that's what my mom says before she beats me up, right?"
Makoto recoils, jerking upright at the comparison. How dare he?! How dare he after everything- She knows he's stalling, but she can't help but take the bait. "You know what, fuck you, that's what! You should've thought about that before letting Milluki kick your ass so thoroughly."
"That part was fine," Killua shoots back, taking the chance take a breather. "This is so much worse!"
"How can that possibly be true!?"
"Guys, GUYS!" Leorio stands, cutting in between them, palms out in a placating gesture. "Makoto, you know he's provoking you on purpose. Walk it off."
The huntress in question closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, exhaling slowly through her nose. Yes. She knows. Doesn't mean he didn't hit where it hurts. She takes the advice and paces the room, grateful for their hunter licenses that afforded them a private cabin on the train.
As soon as her shoulders begin to relax, Leorio turns to the younger boy pointedly. "Killua, that was uncalled for. And mean." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't make a sound when you're literally being tortured, but when it's Makoto, you'll whine until the cows come home, why is that?"
The sudden accusation seems to make Killua straighten and blush, Makoto notes from the corner of her eyes, confused. She half expected him to be angry, or annoyed at the very least, but all he seems is… embarrassed?
She pushes past the taller man. "Stop it Leorio. After what he's been through, he can whine all he wants." Her eyes catch Killua's as she kneels, and his blush only deepens.
She reaches out for him again, and her heart nearly breaks from the way the boy's breath hitches. So instead of touching his wounds, her cool palm moves to his brow, gently wiping away the sweat and blood, then pushing back the sticky strands of hair from his face. Killua shudders at her gentle ministrations, his carefully constructed mask crumbling under her attention. The kindness in her eyes is evident even to a dark soul like his, and he can't help but lean into her touch.
And then he doesn't even know what happened next, because one moment he's trying to lean away, and the next, he is bowing his head into her shoulder, shaky little breaths escaping his lips. "Didn't mean it." He mumbles into her shirt, barely audible.
"I know. I've got you." She murmurs, fingers threading through his dampened hair. "I've got you."
And looking back on it, it was this moment, him bowed in her embrace and her holding him tightly, that truly marked the beginning of their relationship. Somehow, someway, it's a different relationship than that with Gon. And even more different than that with Leorio and Kurapika.
Whatever it was, Killua found himself to be... surprisingly okay with it.
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