MHA: A hunter in the world of heroes

The roar of the crowd echoed like a distant hum in the waiting room, but Katsuki barely registered it. His hands were balled into fists, knuckles white from the pressure, as he leaned against the cold metal wall. The familiar rush of adrenaline before a fight thrummed in his veins, but beneath it, a different sensation twisted in his gut—doubt.

He had crushed every opponent who stood in his way, but the cheers never came. Victory tasted hollow. It was the boos and jeers of the crowd that echoed in his head, louder than his explosions, sharper than the pain of any blow. 'What kind of hero gets booed for winning?'

Katsuki's mind raced, memories flashing before his eyes. The terrified faces of his classmates when he unleashed his quirk in middle school. The disappointment in All Might's eyes after his reckless display of power at the battle trial. 

He gritted his teeth, the words replaying in his mind. Killua had been right. Winning wasn't enough anymore—not if he wanted to be the hero people could trust, someone they could believe in. But how was he supposed to change? 'How do I win and still be someone they don't fear?'

The question gnawed at him, threatening to undo the very foundation of who he was. Katsuki had always equated strength with victory, victory with worth. To admit that this equation was flawed felt like admitting his entire life had been built on a lie.

'Maybe that's exactly what it is,' a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. 'Maybe being the strongest doesn't make you the best hero.'

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. If raw power wasn't the answer, what was? Katsuki's mind flashed to Deku, to the way people gravitated towards him despite his lack of natural talent. Was it his unwavering spirit? His selflessness? The thought of emulating Deku made Katsuki's stomach churn, but he couldn't deny the seed of doubt taking root.

The door creaked open. This time, Katsuki looked up, expecting to see Killua again. But it wasn't him. Instead, it was the proctor, calling his name for the final round.

As he pushed himself off the wall, Katsuki's resolve hardened. He didn't have all the answers, but he knew one thing: he couldn't keep going as he had been. Something had to change, starting with this match. 'I'll show them,' he thought, a new determination burning in his chest. 'I'll show them I can be more than just destruction.'

Meanwhile, in a different part of the stadium, Killua was perfectly still, standing in front of a wide mirror. His reflection stared back at him, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He wasn't worried—he had never been. Not in this tournament. He would win, just like he had planned.

His hands sparked with electricity as he flexed his fingers, the power beneath his skin pulsing like a second heartbeat. This wasn't about glory or proving himself. Killua knew his strength was unmatched, at least in his class. No, this fight was a performance. A distraction.

'Let them focus on me,' he thought, his smirk widening. As long as the League of Villains kept their eyes on him, his classmates would be safe, hidden in his shadow. It was the perfect strategy—draw all the attention, all the danger to himself. Protect by dominating.

But beneath the cocky exterior, a familiar darkness stirred. The cold, calculating part of him that had been honed by years of assassination training whispered that this was foolish. Why risk everything for these people? Why not use his skills for himself, like he had been raised to do?

Killua's smirk faltered for a brief second, his mind drifting to memories he rarely allowed himself to confront. Gon's unwavering belief, how that trust had changed him—pulled him from the darkness of his past. And then there was Alluka. The warmth of her smile and the way protecting her had given him a purpose beyond killing. But that warmth was gone now, replaced by a gnawing emptiness after she died for him.

His smile slipped, and a burning sensation prickled at the corners of his eyes. Not now. Dust stirred in the air as his memories started to take hold of him, he clenched his fists, shaking off the memory like an old wound he refused to let reopen. Now wasn't the time for that.

He forced the emotion back down, deeper into the recesses of his mind. He had a fight to win—a stage to dominate. And right now that was all that mattered. He couldn't afford to dwell on the past—not when everything depended on the present.

'I'm not that person anymore,' Killua reminded himself, his resolve strengthening. 'I choose who I want to be.'

Yet, a nagging doubt remained. Was he truly protecting his friends, or was this all an elaborate justification to indulge in the thrill of the fight? The line between heroism and self-gratification blurred, and Killua found himself questioning his own motivations.

As the announcement for the final match reverberated across the stadium, Killua turned from the mirror, his confidence radiating from every step. He pushed the doubts aside, focusing on the task at hand. He was ready—not just to win, but to claim the spotlight and keep his friends safe, even if they didn't know it.

'And maybe,' a small part of him admitted, 'to prove to myself that I can be more than what I was made to be.'

With that thought, Killua stepped out into the corridor, the roar of the crowd growing louder with each step. Whatever doubts plagued him, whatever conflicts raged within, he knew one thing for certain: He wasn't bound by the blood on his hands or the life he was born into. He would rise beyond it all—not as the assassin he was trained to be, but as the hero he chose to become.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but it all faded into the background as Killua and Katsuki stood on opposite sides of the arena. A thousand eyes were on them, watching, waiting for their fight. The tension in the air was palpable, a charged silence between the two fighters that the audience could never understand.

Killua narrowed his eyes, studying Katsuki's stance. There was something different about him, a flicker of hesitation where there usually was only fire and will to be number one. It wasn't fear—Katsuki wasn't the type to back down from a fight—but something deeper.

Killua took a step forward, his voice low, making sure only Katsuki could hear him over the crowd. "Something's troubling you. Is it about what we talked about before? In the waiting room?"

Katsuki didn't respond immediately. His fists were clenched at his sides, explosions crackling softly in his palms, but his usual fiery rage seemed… dimmed. He met Killua's gaze, the usual intensity in his eyes clouded with uncertainty.

"Yeah," Katsuki muttered, his voice rough. "It's about what you said. About being more than just destruction."

Killua tilted his head, silver hair falling over his eyes as he regarded Katsuki thoughtfully. "And?"

Katsuki's jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face. "I'm trying to figure it out. How to change. How to stop pushing everyone away. But every time I fight… all I know is power, crushing whoever's in front of me, to be number one."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Killua's lips, though there was no mockery in it. "You're not the only one trying to figure things out. The difference is, you don't have to do it alone."

Katsuki's eyes flickered with something—maybe surprise, or maybe understanding—but it was quickly buried beneath the mask he wore so well. He huffed, trying to shrug off Killua's words, but they clung to him like the weight of the crowd's judgment.

"I'm not gonna hold back just because of some stupid lesson about heroism," Katsuki muttered, his voice lowering further. "Don't think I'll go easy on you."

Killua chuckled softly, electricity sparking between his fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it" He paused, his expression growing more serious as he added, "But I won't be able to go all out. Not against you."

Katsuki's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Killua's smirk faltered. "Because I don't want a repeat of what happened with Shiozaki. I can't lose control like that again—not with you. You're not just some random opponent, Katsuki. You're my friend."

For a moment, the two of them stood there, the noise of the crowd, how they yelled at them to start fighting already, lost in the intensity of the moment. Katsuki's fists tightened, his explosions crackling louder for a brief second before they fizzled out. He looked away, his expression hard to read.

"Don't hold back because of me," Katsuki finally said, his voice quieter now, but the challenge still evident. "If you do, then what's the point of any of this?"

Killua's gaze softened, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew Katsuki was right. He knew that holding back would be an insult to both of them, but the fear gnawed at him—'What if I lose control again?' What if, in the heat of battle, his training as an assassin took over, and Katsuki became just another target to eliminate?

"I'm not worried about losing," Killua said after a moment, his voice steady, though the underlying tension was clear. "I'm worried about what happens if I stop seeing you as my friend and start seeing you as prey."

Katsuki's eyes flickered with understanding. He had seen that side of Killua before—the cold, deadly precision of a killer. It wasn't a quirk. It was something darker, something more dangerous. But instead of fear, a smirk slowly spread across Katsuki's face.

"Then make sure you don't slip, Zoldyck. Because I won't."

Killua's lips twitched into a half-smile. "You always did know how to keep things interesting."

The arena fell silent as they took their fighting stances. The tension between them shifted—no longer just about power, but about control, about proving something to themselves. Katsuki squared his shoulders, his hands sparking with renewed energy. Killua's body buzzed with electricity, his mind focused on maintaining the balance between holding back and keeping control.

But even now, with the fight seconds away, neither of them could shake the weight of the words they had exchanged. Katsuki wanted to change but wasn't sure how. Killua knew he had to hold back, and feared what might happen if he didn't.

A mental countdown began. They locked eyes, everything else fading away.

Katsuki was the first to move.

He launched himself forward, explosions crackling from his palms as he rocketed toward Killua with relentless force. The ground shook as the blasts erupted, but Killua didn't flinch. His sapphire eyes narrowed, tracking Katsuki's movements with the sharpness of hard-earned experience.

But Killua didn't counterattack. Not yet.

Instead, he sidestepped Katsuki's first explosive strike with graceful ease, his movements fluid like water. His body twisted in midair, flipping over Katsuki's follow-up blast without so much as a scratch.

Katsuki growled, his frustration bubbling to the surface as he spun around to launch another barrage of explosions. "Stop dodging, damn it!"

Killua landed softly on his feet, as though gravity was merely a suggestion, his face calm and focused. "Why? You're doing all the work for me," he taunted, a sly grin tugging at his lips. They were friends, even if Katsuki didn't admit it, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to mock him and rile him up, after all, that's what friends were for.

Katsuki's explosions intensified as he propelled himself higher, diving toward Killua with devastating force. The air rippled with heat as Katsuki unleashed a massive blast aimed directly at his opponent. But Killua, anticipating the move, performed a seamless backflip, the blast grazing just inches from his face.

He never stopped moving. Each of Katsuki's attacks was met with a counter of graceful acrobatics, dodging, flipping, rolling. His body was a blur of motion, bending and twisting in ways that made it seem like he could read Katsuki's every move before it happened.

The crowd was roaring now, but the sound barely registered. Killua's mind was hyper-focused on maintaining control, on staying a step ahead without letting his instincts take over. 

Katsuki's frustration was mounting. "You think you can win just by running away?!" he shouted, slamming both palms toward the ground in an attempt to corner Killua with an explosion from below.

But Killua leaped into the air again, effortlessly avoiding the blast as the ground cracked beneath him. He spun mid-air, his silver hair catching the light as he landed on his feet behind Katsuki, unharmed and unbothered.

Killua's mind raced as he dodged another explosive punch. This wasn't just about winning anymore; it was about teaching. In a way, he was trying to prove a point to Katsuki: no matter how powerful you are, if you can't land a hit, then you can't win with just pure power. But there was more to it than that.

As he danced around Katsuki's increasingly desperate attacks, Killua was also giving his opponent a chance to show everyone something important. With each missed explosion, each frustrated growl, Katsuki was demonstrating his unwavering determination. He wasn't giving up, even when the odds were stacked against him.

'Now if that isn't a heroic attribute, I don't know what is,' Killua thought, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He was creating a stage for Katsuki to shine, to show the people who had doubted him—who had booed him—just what kind of hero he could be. Not through overwhelming power or intimidation, but through sheer, unbreakable will.

Katsuki, oblivious to Killua's intentions, felt his chest tighten with a mix of rage and something else—a desperate need to prove himself. Each missed attack only fueled his determination. He wouldn't give up, couldn't give up. Not when everyone was watching, not when he had promised himself he'd change.

"Stop running and fight me!" Katsuki roared, his voice hoarse with exertion. But even as the words left his mouth, a small part of him realized something; he wasn't fighting just to win anymore. He was fighting to show everyone—including himself—that he could keep going, could adapt, could be the hero they needed him to be.

Killua saw the shift in Katsuki's eyes, the moment when blind rage gave way to focused determination. 'That's it,' he thought. 'Show them who you really are. Show them that you're more than just what they made you out to be. Prove them wrong'.

As Killua kept dodging around blows, the crowd's jeers slowly transformed into murmurs. They weren't watching a one-sided beatdown; they were witnessing an inspiring hero who refused to break, who pushed beyond his limits not for glory, but for the sake of becoming better.

Katsuki gritted his teeth, refusing to back down. "I'm not done yet!"

He lunged forward with another explosion-fueled dash, throwing a flurry of rapid-fire blasts at Killua from multiple angles. But each time, Killua slipped through the gaps, ducking, weaving, and flipping through the air, his lightning providing the needed speed.

The audience was captivated, watching as Killua gracefully dodged attack after attack. Even though Katsuki was using his full power, it felt as though Killua wasn't even trying. It was a psychological battle as much as a physical one—Killua's evasion was frustrating Katsuki, pushing him to the edge. 

They might have had an understanding but Killua still had a job to do, people to protect and he had to win, to stand out in order to do that.

And then, Killua saw it.

A momentary lapse in Katsuki's barrage. A split second where his guard dropped after an overextended attack. Killua's eyes gleamed, and he moved like the lightning he wielded.

In a flash, Killua shifted from defense to offense, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. His movements were swift and decisive. He struck first with a powerful, electricity-charged punch to Katsuki's midsection, sending a jolt through his body and forcing him to stumble back.

Katsuki's eyes widened as the shock hit him—he hadn't expected Killua to counter so quickly, nor so cleanly.

Killua didn't let up. He followed up with a series of rapid strikes, his fists crackling with electricity as he landed blow after blow, each one precise and calculated. Katsuki tried to counter with an explosion, but Killua was already gone, slipping out of his reach and landing another hit from a different angle.

For the first time, Katsuki felt like he was fighting someone who was 'toying' with him.

"You're too predictable," Killua said, he wasn't offending him, just pointing out something for him to improve. Unfortunately his reputation as -for lack of a better description- little shit precedent him. 

Katsuki's mind raced, torn between indignation and a grudging acknowledgment of the truth in Killua's words. He had always relied on his raw power, his explosive quirk that had never failed him before. But now, faced with an opponent who moved like lightning, thought three steps ahead, and was known for his hand-to-hand expertise, Katsuki realized the limitations of his approach.

"You rely too much on brute force," Killua continued, effortlessly sidestepping another of Katsuki's attacks. His movements were fluid, almost beautiful in their efficiency. "You'll never win that way."

Katsuki snarled, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Shut up! You think you're better than me?!" He launched another explosion, but Killua dodged it with ease, his body moving like a blur.

"I don't think," Killua said, his eyes sharp as he darted forward again. There was no mockery in his gaze, only a calm certainty that came from years of training. "I know."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Friend or no friend, it was just how things were. Killua wasn't boasting; he was stating a fact, one that Katsuki was finding harder and harder to deny.

With one final strike, Killua swept Katsuki's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Killua stood over him, his fists still sparking with electricity, but his expression calm. He hadn't lost control. He hadn't gone too far. He had held his temper back, just like he promised.

Katsuki lay there for a moment, panting heavily, staring up at Killua with a mix of frustration, respect, and awe. He knew he couldn't win, not against someone like Killua. But there was something about the way Killua fought—calm, collected, and in control—that made Katsuki want to figure it out for himself. To change.

Killua extended a hand, offering to help him up. The crowd went wild, and the match was still ongoing.

Katsuki stared at the hand for a moment before taking it, pulling himself to his feet. He didn't say a word, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. This wasn't over. 

As he stood, facing Killua, a realization dawned on Katsuki. A grin spread across his face, full of understanding. "You don't see me as prey," he said, his voice filled with glee. "You're still in control."

Killua's lips curved into a matching grin. "I am," he confirmed, his eyes twinkling with mischief and approval.

Katsuki's mind raced, piecing together the puzzle of Killua's behavior. "You weren't pissed off though, not like you were when you fought Shiozaki."

"True," Killua admitted, his expression softening slightly. "But there were still some lingering feelings." His eyes traveled to the stands where Endeavor stood, and his gaze narrowed momentarily. Then, turning back to Katsuki, his face brightened. "More importantly... they're cheering for you."

Katsuki blinked, suddenly aware of the crowd's reaction. The jeers and boos from earlier had transformed into genuine cheers and applause. "Yeah, I guess they do," he said, a note of wonder in his voice.

"Do you have your answer now?" Killua asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

Katsuki snorted, but there was no real heat in it. "How couldn't I? You literally beat it into me."

"Good," Killua said, his voice filled with satisfaction. Then, in a blur of movement, he was gone. Before Katsuki could react, he felt himself flying through the air, propelled by his whirlwind technique. 

The crowd gasped in unison at his sneak attack and for a moment silence filled the whole stadium.

As he tumbled to a stop outside the ring, officially ending the match, Katsuki's initial shock gave way to a mix of outrage and—surprisingly—amusement. Killua had never denied his reputation as a "little shit," and apparently, he had a reputation to uphold.

"You bastard!" Katsuki yelled, but there was a hint of laughter beneath his angry facade. "I'm gonna kick your ass for that!"

Killua approached, offering a hand up once again, his face a picture of mock innocence. "Sorry about that," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I couldn't resist."

Katsuki grabbed his hand, but instead of letting Killua pull him up, he tried to yank him down. Killua, expecting this, buried his feet in the ground. Physically he was stronger than Katsuki but he still tried to pull him down. "Rematch!" Katsuki demanded, already knowing he would lose but too fired up to care. "Right now!"

Killua's laughter rang out, clear and genuinely amused, as he dodged Katsuki's half-hearted swipes. The crowd joined in, their laughter and cheers creating a surprisingly joyful atmosphere for what had been such an intense match and an unorthodox victory.

Even Katsuki found himself more amused than truly angry. His insults lacked their usual bite, and his voice, while loud, didn't carry the raw fury it once would have. This wasn't just a loss—it was a turning point, a moment of growth disguised as a playful scuffle between rivals turned friends.

As they continued their comedic chase around the arena, Katsuki realized something profound. The crowd wasn't just laughing at their antics; they were cheering for him too. Not for his power or his victories, but for his spirit, his determination, and most surprisingly, his ability to take a loss with grace (well, relative grace for Katsuki).

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and the warmth of newfound respect, Katsuki understood what Killua had been trying to show him all along. Being a hero wasn't just about winning; it was about inspiring others, about growing and adapting, and sometimes, about knowing how to lose with dignity.

As he finally caught up to Killua, grabbing him in a headlock that they both knew Killua could easily escape, Katsuki felt a genuine smile spread across his face. He had lost the match, but in many ways, he had won something far more valuable—a new perspective, a worthy rival, and above all a friend.