Third Person POV: Killua
"Run!"
The boy's senses were tingling, screeching for him to get very far from that voice. Killua had experienced hell at home. He was never one to be afraid by death or pain.
No, what had always scared the lad and instilled respect or dread in him was power—that absolute, commanding strength coursing through his father's veins and muscles. Even further, the wise yet ill-boding, vivid eyes of his grandfather.
Killua was raised to rob lives; he wasn't taught anything else. He was dancing with death and over every other day. Knowing the full extent of his skills, the boy fretted the unknown like any practiced murderer. Habits were prodigious in that way. The list of things a person could grow accustomed to could stretch a few feet.
The young hitman derived his "interrogation" skills from that very process, after all. No matter how tough one was considered, there were a few things that could always break them. The unknown was something that most lifeforms naturally apprehended, and it was best used when destroying the walls they built around themselves.
Above anything else, there was something that Killua was afraid of.
It had been a long time since he spoke with his father. Though, as far as he remembered, his icy gaze was not something he liked to experience for long.
Like his brother, he should be filled with that "liquid dread" that he projected whenever he was making a stand. He had tried to ask the head butler about it once, but his parents made sure to point out that he wasn't "ready." That very same day, Illumi had also been "personally" tasked with his education.
In the paramount scheme of his "growth," as the heir of the household, his father was the final enforcer. He was glad that the mistakes he made weren't deserving enough of a meeting.
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Most of the time, he was simply admonished with comedic reliefs such as Milluki or his mother.
What Killua was scared of was here, just a few steps away. His desire to dash overwhelmed any sense of bravery threatening to surface. He only learned this very day, that this "energy" that Gon identified as "Nen" was something that people used to grow even more monstrous. He was a monster in his own rights, but he realized that he still had a long way to go the first time his brother let that baleful liquid contact his skin.
The second time was a few hours ago when his new friend had a little staredown with a participant.
And the last instance was now, as the newcomer's form turned visible, and the grating noise he made in the mud grew conspicuous.
Killua's senses, whet through what should typically be viewed as countless suicidal ordeals, screamed. For some ominous reason, the guy's intentions were clear, and he quickly grasped that he wasn't ready for what he was going to put down.
That killing intent was carnal. Not as bleak or sedate as his brother's, but frightening in its own right. What was most dreadful about it was its arbitrary nature. This very nature gave a feeling that his life wasn't in his hands.
Yes, ironically, what Killua hated the most about his upbringing was also his greatest terror once on the field. Suffocation. Literally and figuratively.
……………..
"It's that crazy dude from before," Leorio remarked calmly for the first time. Though, his eyes and shaking fingers betrayed the jitters he was probably experiencing. Like him, the intent the man was generously displaying was something he didn't seem to enjoy.
"Wh-why can't I move?" A stuttering Pokkle tried to reach for his quiver, but staying on his knees seemed to prove an immense effort already.
"Dammit!" As Killua was deliberating the best way to handle the situation, he realized that the blond's pupils changed colors. It was a bit shocking, but he was more concerned with the problem at hand. He opened his mouth and spoke alarmingly:
"Gon, let's run!"
"Ohh…you're still capable of standing? Interesting." The pink-haired jester had finally closed in. He stopped a few steps away from the party and contemplated it. "I would gladly put you through my little test as well, but that guy won't let me hear the end of it if I moved you."
"Hisoka…" Gon, who had remained silent for the last few seconds, finally spoke. As he did so, the clown turned his gaze in his direction and smirked.
"How do you know my name, boy?" He asked with a bit of entertainment.
"I heard it from the other participants, but that's not important here…" The former exhaled with a bit of exasperation. He seemed to be a bit more restless than usual. Killua didn't know if it was because he was anxious or because he was excited.
"Gon, don't be reckless!" The boy behind him panicked when he advanced.
"I can handle this guy." Gon reassured and smiled his way. "Help up the others and move."
"..." Killua wanted to retort but changed his mind after he looked him in the eyes. He nodded and lifted two of his companions, one on each shoulder. "Grab on my stomach." He told Leorio before hastily heading off. He was curious, but he knew that what was about to ensue was something out of his league for now.
"I can't let you take away my little trainees." The man named Hisoka suddenly said charmingly.
Killua unconsciously paused to glance behind laboriously, but what happened next was something that would help him remember never to touch his future best friend's bottom line.
"Go!" The latter yelled severely, his opponent floating high up in the air, struggling to break away from unapparent restraints.