Chapter Two
"I met a strange kid," Aizawa said thoughtfully, tapping his chin as he leaned back in the teacher's lounge thoughtfully.
"What kind of strange?" Toshinori asked curiously, lifting his gaze from his linked hands, where he had been fixedly staring at his hands.
"Don't know," Aizawa said gruffly. "I caught him trying to steal a bento box. I was going to stop him, but he ran from me."
There was a distinctly unsatisfied note in the teacher's voice at those last words.
"He ran from you?" Toshinori was surprised. "And... you weren't able to catch him?"
Aizawa nodded, obviously still in thought.
"Illegal quirk usage?" the world's number one hero guessed.
Aizawa shook his head, then shrugged. "He was fast. Faster than he should've been." He grimaced. "Tricked me into releasing my quirk on him. I thought he had a mutant-type quirk, so my cancellation was somehow hurting him. He used the chance to escape."
"But there's something else," another voice said. It was Sejikiro Kan, the Blood Hero and homeroom teacher of Class B.
"Ah," Aizawa said, looking up, eyes not dull and bored for once. "Yes, there was something else. It might be nothing, but… he seemed to genuinely not know what pro heroes were, or understand why the police would do something about him stealing something. And… he didn't even know what Tokyo was."
"Did you catch his name?" Toshinori asked, leaning in, a frown on his face. "You said he was a kid? How old was he?"
Aizawa grimaced. "Young. Maybe thirteen or fourteen." He looked away. "Tch. As if we don't have enough problems handling our own students."
"Did you report it to the police?" Sejikiro asked.
"Of course," Aizawa said drolly. "What do you think I am? A novice?"
"Maybe a lazy bastard," Sejikiro said, but he was smiling. Aizawa let it pass; the bulky, ever-encouraging hero was impossible to hold grudges against.
"I did report it," Aizawa continued levelly, "but without an ID, it'll be hard to find the kid. Looks like he had some family situation going on too. He was a runaway."
"A runaway?" Toshinori asked.
Aizawa nodded.
"What'd he look like?" Sejikiro asked. "Maybe I could pass it on to the other heroes and they could keep an eye out on patrols."
"That's not a bad idea," Toshinori agreed. "It's rare to find someone who can outrun a pro hero, so the police might not be able to handle this case."
"Hmm. Fair point." Aizawa was quiet for a moment. "He had distinctive white hair, blue eyes. A brattish look." What else? "Wore rather normal clothing. Tanks and a shirt. Clean enough, so he must have had a place to stay recently."
Sejikiro was writing the info down in a notepad. "Roger that. I'll pass it on." He paused, then continued, "What would you think the best course of action would be upon encountering him?"
Aizawa thought for a moment, remembering how disbelieving the boy had been at the prospect of "help". He hadn't even seemed to take it seriously as a possibility.
"A slow approach," he said, measuring the words as he thought them. "That's the type of kid who'd run off the moment he thinks he's in danger. We'd need to find out why he didn't know where Tokyo was, and his full situation before approaching him."
"Hmm," Sejikiro said. "A tricky case."
Toshinori nodded in agreement. "I, as well, will search for him."
Aizawa scowled. "And risk losing your time as the Symbol of Peace? Forget it, All Might, there are plenty of heroes more capable than you at finding a kid."
Toshinori seemed wounded. "But - "
"You can't save everyone," Aizawa said, feeling as if he should roll his eyes. "The kid will be fine. With any luck, he's already found himself a safe place to be. He was smart enough to trick me, anyway. The only real danger is if…"
"I wouldn't finish that thought," Sejikiro said wryly. "You'll only get All Might up in a twist." He looked at Toshinori encouragingly. "Don't worry, we'll be on it, old friend. You can count on us to find him."
Meanwhile, elsewhere...
"I know how to make sushi," Killua said, annoyed.
"Right, and you're wielding that knife like you're going to slaughter someone with it," the older girl said, rolling her eyes. "Just let me show you how."
Killua grumbled, but handed Sencha the knife. Her family had been nice enough to take him in after all, when they had found him sitting on their steps under their awning in the rain. They had even offered him a job at their restaurant once he admitted he didn't have any money to repay their hospitality with - it was a little strange to him, the idea of working in a restaurant, but he didn't have many better options at the moment.
"Look, like this." She lifted the knife, letting the tip rest against the wooden platform while she brought up the back of the blade. Then she brought it down, once, twice, then many times more until twenty neat slices of salmon lay on the tray before them.
Killua whistled, impressed. "Nice!" He reached out to grab a piece, but she swatted his hand away.
"Geez, you're really like a stray cat," she said. She gave him a stern look. "You're here to work, aren't you? Have you ever even made sushi before?"
"I made it once," Killua said smugly. "Under a hell of a teacher too."
Though she hadn't really taught at all. He still had nightmares about Menchi's sushi trial.
She sighed. "Everybody's made sushi at home once or twice before. It takes more than that to be a real chef."
Killua took the moment to process that and pouted.
She laughed, a surprised laugh. Then she offered the knife over to him, hilt-first. "Here, prove to me that you really know what you're doing. Then maybe I'll let you do something other than sweep the floor and clean the dishes."
Killua gave her a tight grin, and took the knife. He had been trained as an assassin. Of course he could use a knife to chop up a fish.
Mirroring her technique, he brought the tip carefully to the wooden board, lifting the back of the knife. Then, deciding to show off a bit, he brought the knife up and down in a flurry of motion.
He grinned at the twenty near-perfect slices and turned to her with smug satisfaction. His grin died a little when he saw the avid horror on her face.
"No, no, that was too fast!" she said, then turned to him accusingly. "Showoff. You have a speed enhancing quirk, don't you? Well - look at this." She lifted up a slice, and Killua could see that it was only a little torn on the edges, but maybe thinner in width than her own slices. "It's all squished! Look, you want to keep the dead cells all preserved and in the right size, alright? You need to be gentle with the fish. There's a technique."
"Ah…" Killua said hesitantly. She really was just like Menchi. Way too picky. It looked fine to him. "Maybe I should just do the dishes and sweeping," he offered finally.
"Right you are," she said bossily, nodding. "Though it wasn't a bad first attempt, I cannot certify you for this kitchen." She grinned cheekily. "Though maybe you'll catch up to me one day, stray kitten."
Killua wasn't sure what to make of the nickname.
"I'm not a kitten," he huffed.
"Right," she rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe you'll grow up into a real fine sweeper one day. The broom's over in the corner." She pointed, and a bit bemused, Killua wandered over to pick it up. He held it up for a second, wondering what to do with it. The floor looked clean enough - ?
"You start at that corner," she said, eyebrows raised, lips twitched, "and you go to the other corner. I promise you, there'll be a mess once the store opens."
"Right," Killua said, cheeks flushing. "I know how to sweep."
The Zoldyck's had never much bothered with manual labor themselves. Killua had certained held many brooms before - but as assassination improvisation weapons, should the traditional methods fail. He felt a bit silly using it to just dust the floor, but he did, and once he had gotten started he got the swing of things.
"Hey," Sencha said abruptly, in a different tone of voice. More serious. Killua immediately stopped sweeping to look at her. She was leaned back against the counter, abandoning her tools of trade. "What's your story?"
Killua leaned on the broom, smiling. "Huh? My story? Why do you want to know?"
She shot him a look. "Well, you're staying here, aren't you? Don't you think I deserve to know?"
"Fair point." Killua considered her for a moment. "You remind me a lot of my friend, you know."
Her eyebrows raised. "Your friend?"
"Yeah, he," Killua waved his hand, growing flustered at trying to explain it. "He also, well, nevermind." He looked away, propping his elbow on the top of the broom and his chin on the palm of his hand, perched into a delicate balance. "You're older, but he was also the first person my age to just welcome me in. Speak to me normally. That kind of thing." He waved his hand as if were nothing. "It's just fun, you know."
She hummed thoughtfully for a moment. Then said, "Now I'm even more curious about your story. Why'd you end up here, out on the steps in the rain?"
Killua frowned, waving back and forth on the broom.
"I'm not really sure," he confessed. "I was taken here, somehow. I don't know how to get back home yet."
She looked alarmed, standing straighter, no longer against the counter.
"Taken here? Were you, kidnapped?"
"No, no," he waved his free hand again. His eyebrows furrowed. "Just taken. I don't understand it. I think it was some kind of… Quirk."
She looked even more concerned. "Have you reported this to the police?"
Again with the police. What was with these people? Were the police actually strong here?
Killua shook his head. "I don't know anything about this place," he said. "I just got here today. I don't trust them."
"Hmm." She stared at him. "If a quirk took you here, the pro heroes should be able to help you, or catch the person that brought you here. This is what they specialize in." She paused, thinking. "Where are you originally from? It must be Japan, isn't it, because you speak so well?"
"Huh?" Killua said. "What are you talking about? This is the international language."
She stared at him flatly. "No, it isn't. There is no international language, unless you count English."
Oh, great. Another interdimensional difference.
Killua shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I meant national language." It was a weak excuse, but it'd do. "But I'm not actually from Japan. I'm from… further."
"Hmm." She raised her eyebrows. "So mysterious."
Killua smiled, all teeth. "I am full of mysteries."
She paused awkwardly at that, then coughed. "Right, well, I think you should go to the police, and they can get you in contact with the heroes. We can go later today, if you'd like?"
"Do you really think they'll help?" Killua asked seriously. "I met a pro hero and all he did was try to swipe at me. He was... strong."
Her eyebrows furrowed in an almost-angry expression. "Swipe at you!?"
Killua shrugged, backing off, releasing his tip-toe hold on the broom. "It wasn't so bad. I got away just fine."
Her eyes widened, and then she actually facepalmed. "What have I gotten myself into…" she muttered. She looked at him then, removing the hand casually. "Not from Japan, eh?"
"Not from Japan," he reaffirmed.
She shook her head, and said, "Well, for now, get back to sweeping. We are going to that police station later, and you can report the pro hero who acted inappropriately towards you as well. Sound good?"
Killua wasn't happy about being told what to do, but he figured it was the best plan of action he'd heard yet. Sencha at least seemed ordinary; she had no dangerous aura and no clear ulterior motive. He thought he could trust her.
He didn't have many other options anyway. No one else seemed to care about a boy on the streets, and, more importantly, he didn't know where to go in this strange, new world. He didn't know how he ranked in strength to everyone else, so he didn't dare to start anything yet, not when he still knew so little.
"Yes, yes, ma'am," he drawled, finally, and went back to sweeping.
Chapter Three: Arrangements
"Eeeehh!?" Gon leaned over the counter, eyes wide and confused. "Killua is gone!?"
Leorio frowned, his expression set into an uncharacteristic furrow of concern. "He hasn't shown up all night and we had agreed to meet tonight. And I heard someone talking about a street fight nearby with a white-haired kid involved… It looks pretty likely that something happened."
Gon shook his head furiously. "But Killua is strong! He'd beat anybody who tried to fight him."
"Hmm, you have a point there, that kid is freakishly strong. But there are some crazy monsters in this world, Gon."
Gon deflated, falling limp on the countertop. "I wanted to go to the auction with him…"
Leorio watched the boy carefully. "What are you going to do, Gon? We agreed to meet Kurapika here, but now…"
Gon whipped himself into a straight sitting position, putting a finger on his chin and a thinking expression on his face. Then he got serious, eyes flattening and losing the playful shine.
"We'll just have to find him," Gon said, meeting Leorio's eyes.
Leorio almost took a step back at Gon's intense gaze. But he held; he had gotten used to this kid by now, after all.
"If he's really in trouble, you might have to miss the auction," Leorio said cautiously.
"I don't care. He's my friend. I'm going to get him back."
In another universe…
Killua grimaced and met Detective Naomasa's eyes. He had a friendly, earnest expression, wore an placating smile, and exuded a stolid and reliable demeanor. Killua didn't trust it.
"What stake do you have in this, anyway?" he asked finally, after ten minutes of pointless conversation, resisting the urge to shove his hands in his pockets. He still didn't know what this man's "quirk" was, he might still need them free. He didn't look strong, but… "I don't get it."
The detective raised an eyebrow, and leaned forward ever so slightly. "What do you mean?"
Ah, great. This was one of those obvious things, wasn't it?
"I mean, what do you get from helping me?" Killua leaned backwards in his chair, feigning an expression of boredom through narrow-slitted eyes. In reality, his body was filled with tension, ready to spring for the door at any moment.
"Aren't detectives supposed to be free for all hires, anyway?" he continued casually, waving one hand in the air. "Tell me why you're here, and I'll tell you why I am. Fair deal."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sencha and her mom exchange glances.
The detective smiled. "Deal," he said.
Killua jerked his head his way minutely. "You start."
It was hard to keep feigning disinterest, but he did his best to keep his mask on. By the detective's keen, level expression behind the placating smile, Killua wasn't fooling anyone.
Not changing his expression, Killua clenched his fist underneath the table. Maybe this had been a mistake.
"Well," the detective started, "I'm a police detective, not free for hire as you said. I work with the police to resolve complex cases and often work as a liaison with the heroes. Your case came to me because a pro hero, Eraser Head, had originally reported you to us."
Of course. He supposed he should have expected that guy to report him.
"And you?" the detective asked, inclining his head towards Killua.
Killua measured his answer.
"I am here because… Sencha suggested it," Killua said, looking briefly at the girl. She smiled encouragingly. Then he watched the detective, shrugged and grinned. "Next question, what's your, quirk?"
"Hmm," the detective said, scratching his chin. "I had been hoping for a more complete answer, but I suppose that'll have to do. Same rules as before? An answer for an answer?"
Killua pouted dramatically. The man had caught him. He had been hoping he'd just answer without wanting anything in exchange.
"Fine," he said, sighing. When he saw Sencha smile out of the corner of his eye, he called it a win. He loosened his clenched fist, relaxing a fraction.
"Well," the man said, a more real smile on his face, "I can tell you my quirk isn't very powerful. It's the ability to tell when someone is lying."
More of the tension in his body relaxed at that. So. Not a combat quirk.
He decided to test it though.
"My best friend's name is Gon."
The detective shot him a curious look.
"I hate chocolate."
The detective smiled in amusement. "I suppose I'll have to get you some, then."
Killua's mouth dropped open.
"Really!?" he asked, leaning forward, eyes shining. He smiled catishly. "Would you? Please?"
He knew an opportunity when he saw one. And besides, the man had just all but proved his quirk was physically harmless.
The detective chuckled. "Of course. I think I have some in my drawer over here." He swiveled his chair around, and began rummaging through a drawer, the sound of crinkling papers filling the office room. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself."
Sencha chuckled, looking at Killua, who swiveled his head to look back at her. "If I had known you were so big on sweets, I might've bribed you with some earlier."
Killua returned her stare with serious eyes. "Please do."
A few moments later, Killua had devoured the three too-small chocolate pieces and felt significantly more content.
"So you tested my quirk," the detective said after the few sweet moments had passed, still smiling. "Now you can tell me about yours." His words caused a more serious demeanor to fall over the room again.
"Nuh-uh," Killua said, waving a finger in the air, determinedly playful. "An answer for an answer was all we agreed to. Ask me something else."
"Hmm." The detective lost the smile, growing more serious. He clasped his gloved hands together and leaned forward, intent. "Why did you run from Eraser Head?"
Now the tension was full-throttle back on.
Killua stiffened, and abruptly leapt to his feet. He walked to the door, opened it. He popped his head out into the hallway. No one was there, other than a few police standing at the doorway, talking seriously with a small figure at the doorway with combed hair and an aggressive attitude.
None of the police looked dangerous, he observed, all distracted eyes and loose form. They hadn't even noticed him open the door, too distracted by the kid at the entrance. Only the kid had side-eyed him for a moment, and that had been it.
Most importantly, he thought, there were no pro heroes obviously waiting in ambush in the small building. He probably could tear through this office like it was nothing. He was in no danger.
Killua walked back into the room, considerably more relaxed.
The detective, who had only half-stood by the time he was done with all this, was watching him very carefully.
Slow to react, Killua thought, gaining further confidence. He stalked back into his chair, throwing himself into it in a relaxed poise, ignoring how Sencha was giving him a disbelieving and incredulous stare and her mom was staring at him chidingly.
"Sorry," he grinned, cat-like, all sprawled across the chair like this situation was nothing. "Had to check."
The detective frowned, slowly settling himself back into the chair.
Slow movements too, Killua thought. Good.
A few seconds later though, the detective had regained his equilibrium.
"That was an extreme reaction for the question," he asked, crossing his hands together as if to make himself steadier or appear calmer. "Mind telling me what that was about?"
Killua waved his hand in the air. "I don't need to do anything you tell me to do." He might've said it too smugly.
The detective's eyes narrowed.
"I ran away from Aizawa because he wanted to catch me for some reason," Killua continued, heedlessly. He paused, waiting for the detective's reaction.
"He wanted to catch you because you had stolen something," the detective replied sternly.
Sencha's mom gasped. It was quiet, suppressed, but Killua's sharp ears still picked up on it. He swung his head towards the family who had taken him in for the night, and was surprised at the hurt he felt at their shocked expressions. It was like they were looking at him entirely differently.
Killua wasn't new to the look, but for taking something? Usually he was looked at like that if he told someone he was an assassin, not for something that small.
"So?" Killua asked casually, hiding his hurt. It was nothing, after all. Gon accepted him; he was who was important; he needed to get back to him to help him find his dad. That was the priority, nothing else. "I was hungry, and no one would take my money."
"Hmm." The detective's eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. His eyes skitted over and landed on Sencha's mom.
"Miss Sencha," he asked, after a severe, heavy pause, "would you mind if I talked to Killua in private for a moment?"
The restaurant owner looked surprised, then nodded. After another moment's pause, she mumbled, "Of course," and grabbed her daughter's arm. "Come on, Kirko. We'll wait outside, in those chairs."
Kirko?
"Uh-huh," Sencha said, letting herself be tugged.
At the doorway, though, Sencha paused against her mother's gravity, and shot Killua an encouraging, albeit confused smile. It seemed to say "good luck".
Killua was then alone with the detective.
"Killua," the detective leaned in again, looking serious. "Do you remember how we started this conversation? Miss Sencha mentioned that you said you had been 'taken' by some quirk and brought to Musutafu."
Killua nodded, forgetting about Sencha and her family. Now they were finally getting to the point. "Yeah," he said, putting his hands in his pockets casually, even as he watched the detective sharply. "That's why I'm here."
"I see. And you refused to give them any more details?"
Killua shrugged. "They didn't ask."
The detective stared at him flatly. Right. His "quirk".
Killua rolled his eyes. "Well, they asked, but they seemed happy enough with my answers. Technically true."
"I can see that you believe that," the detective said, then continued more softly, "but can't you also understand why they might be worried for you, a young kid who might've been kidnapped, and whom they found on the streets?"
Killua shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't expected the detective to go down this route. It was weird.
"I can take care of myself," he said.
"I'm sure you can," the detective said. "But in this world, you should not have to."
Killua paused, cocking his head to the side. There was something about that phrasing –
"Now, I wanted to ask you more about this kidnapping and your family," the detective continued levely. "I assure you, if you answer fully and truthfully, I will do my best to help you go home, or find a home that would be best for you." He smiled. "After all, this is my job, as a police detective."
It was a peculiar thought to Killua. A job, just to help? Where was the benefit in that? Who was paying for that?
This world really was strange.
Killua shifted uncomfortably again. "Look, I –"
He made the mistake of meeting the man's eyes.
They were surprisingly earnest. Solid, unwavering. They shockingly reminded him of Gon.
What am I going to do to get back? he thought suddenly, an unexpected pang in his chest as the reality his situation hit him again. He was in an alternate universe, no clear way back yet. And Gon, his friend, needed him.
No – it wasn't just that, he realized. He wanted to get back to Gon. To have fun with his first and only friend. He wanted to slam it in his face that he would've won that bet, with all the internet money he had collected, just before that woman had attacked him, and then see his friend pout and laugh and then challenge him again to something else.
Then, looking at the man, he thought. Maybe I could use his help, after all.
It was, he supposed, the reason why he had come to this police station after all.
"Fine," he said, sighing. He looked away, and pulled up his hands to tuck them behind his neck so he could stare at the ceiling. "I'll just tell you what happened. I don't really get what's going on either. One moment, I was going to go meet my friend, the next, I was attacked by some strange old lady, and I ended up here."
He snuck a glance at the detective. He was listening, even taking quick notes on a notepad.
"I didn't know what had happened. It was darker than it had been, morning instead of midday like before. The buildings were different," Killua recounted, taking on an analytical, listing tone, "and though the language was the same, the people were all different. They didn't take my Jenny at the store." He frowned, remembering the experience. It had been the very first sign that something was very, very wrong – since Jenny was supposed to be international. "Then I ran into Aizawa at the third store I tried, when I went to just take the food. He caught me by surprise."
Killua paused. The detective nodded in a nonjudgemental "go on" fashion.
Now, when he continued speaking, Killua watched the detective keenly, wanting to catch the man's reaction to this part.
"He said some things I didn't understand. About the police, and pro heroes. I ran, because he tried to grab me. He followed, and did this thing where… hmm, I guess my quirk shut down." The detective's eyes narrowed at the last statement. He had noticed the half-truth. "He said something about illegal quirk usage. I then escaped."
The detective was practically brimming to ask a question, but obviously sensed there was more to the story. He, admirably, held himself back.
Killua now turned his full attention to the man, no longer hiding his flatness and seriousness behind a facade of casualness. He met his eyes head-on.
"I came to the conclusion that I was in another world. I had never heard of quirks before, or pro heroes. No one had heard of Yorknew or Kukan'yu Kingdom. It was the only thing that made sense. I had somehow been taken to an alternate universe."
The detective took it astonishingly well, only pausing for some seconds to process it.
"I see," he said, nodding. "And that is why you didn't understand why we would want to help you, and why you ran from Eraser Head, a pro hero. In our world, it is quite accepted that heroes and the police are here to help you – though I will admit not everyone lives up to the ideals as they should." His eyebrows furrowed together. "Your world must be quite hard."
Killua shrugged. "I can take care of myself," he said again.
A knock came at the door. Killua's head swiveled towards it, then towards the detective, who looked surprised. He then turned to Killua, a silent question in his eyes.
"Go ahead," Killua shrugged again, though he was curious if Sencha had decided to come back. He supposed it didn't matter in any case if the conversation was delayed by a few minutes.
The detective nodded, and called, "Come in."
The door opened. The kid who had been at the doorway talking with the police some minutes ago stood there, not Sencha or her mom. The aggressive demeanor was gone, he looked serious. With his school uniform on, neat and pristine, it gave him an almost too-respectable look.
Then his gaze met Killua's, and a scowl formed on the boy's face. The thug-like expression strangely contrasted with his respectable clothing, and it left Killua confused as to what kind of person this was.
The boy quickly dismissed him, however, centering his full attention onto the detective.
"Detective Naomasa," the boy said, mouth opening once, then closing again. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, one hand still on the frame.
"Young Bakugo," the detective smiled, his placating, friendly facade back on, locked tight. It made Killua realize that the man had in fact loosened those barriers during their conversation – another sign that he was treating with Killua earnestly. "Here to ask about your friends?"
The boy nodded, hesitantly and grudgingly.
The detective's eyes flitted to Killua, and then back to the boy again, evaluating something. "Well, this might be for the better, after all. Killua, this is Bakugo, a hero student."
Killua stiffened. "A hero… student?" he asked, the idea sounding strange in his mouth. His eyes ran up and down the kid, immediately reevaluating him.
Bakugo's eyes met his. Too sharp, keen. Killua tensed, shifting into a more battle-ready position. This was a fighter.
Then the eye contact broke. Bakugo, again, dismissed him.
He doesn't even realize I'm a threat, Killua realized.
Then again, neither had the detective, or even Aizawa, at first.
Maybe this world wasn't so dangerous, after all.
"I don't care about this kid. I just want to know about Deku, Shoto, and Iida, those dumbasses," the boy grumbled. He glanced away. "Best Jeanist told me to come. He said you'd been on the scene."
"I can assure you that your friends are fine," Detective Naomasa said calmly. "They were injured, and in trouble, but not critically so. They decided to give up the credit for taking down Stain to get let off the hook for using their quirks without a permit."
"Is that so…" the boy muttered, an unseen tension dissipating. Then he seemed to realize what he was saying, and ricocheted up abruptly in tension. "That dumb Deku," he said, scowling. "Always getting himself into trouble. Needing to be the hero. Not like I care."
Killua actually laughed.
The boy's gaze jumped to him, his expression angry, and he took an aggressive step forward. "Huh? What are you laughing at, punk?"
It sent Killua into a full-bellied, helpless laughter, hands clutched to his stomach in a futile effort to hold it in. If he weren't on a chair, he'd be on the floor rolling around.
"I'm – I'm sorry," he said, laughing. "You – you're just, such a – contradiction."
Gaining control of himself, he wiped a faux tear from his eyes. "What are you supposed to be, a punk, a stylist, a tsundere, a hero, or what?"
The boy scowled at him, taking another step forward. It completely contrasted with the respectable image of his combed hair and neat uniform. "And what? Who are you anyway, side-rate character?"
Killua grinned, letting his eyes go flat, his voice dark, and a tiny eek of soul-destroying empty bloodlust, "Your worst nightmare."
His reaction sent Killua into another round of stomach-clenching laughter.
"What the heck," Bakugo said, disgruntled. "I don't get this kid."
Detective Naomasa chuckled. "I suppose he's the mystery of the day, it's true."
Killua smiled innocently, then turned his attention back to the detective. "Why'd you say him coming in 'was for the better', anyway?" he asked curiously, miming quotes over his words.
Naomasa nodded in appreciation of the question, and even the blond boy, Bakugo, leaned in, curious.
"I myself am unable to solve your problem, Killua," the detective admitted. "I am assuming from all of this, that you want to go home?"
Killua nodded, not seeing where this was going.
"However, hero agencies and academies typically have a vast amount of resources and a variety of quirks at their disposal. Bakugo here is a hero student at UA, a particularly prestigious academy…"
"Ah, I get it."
"Huh?" Bakugo said. "I don't. What's going on?"
The detective looked askance at Killua, and Killua again shrugged. He figured the detective would know his own world the best, and Killua had already decided to confide in the guy anyway.
"Killua here is from a different universe, however unbelievable it might sound," the detective said to Bakugo, smiling. "If you can spare your time, I would like you to bring him UA to get him in touch with your professors. Best Jeanist can help the process, though I'd caution you from spreading the news too far. Unfortunately, I'm too busy chasing leads for the new Stain's followers to be much more help than as a liason."
"Huuh?" Bakugo practically recoiled, looking at Killua like he was the snot on his nose. "Why should I help him? And what's this 'different universe' crap?"
"Bakugo," the detective said chidingly, "you're training to be a hero, aren't you?"
The boy grimaced. "Yeah, yeah. Fine, I'll help him." He turned to Killua. "You better not get in my way, you hear me?"
Killua raised an eyebrow. "As if," he scoffed. "Who said I wanted your help, anyway?"
Naomasa shot him a cautioning glance, then turned to Bakugo. "Wasn't there something else Best Jeanist sent you here for too?"
Bakugo froze for a moment, before relaxing and waving his hand away casually, abruptly losing the aggressive demeanor for a more sullen one. "Yeah, yeah. The sludge villain records."
"Why don't you go see Tanuma next door for those records?" the detective suggested. "He can go over them with you. I still need to talk with Killua for a bit."
The boy frowned, but nodded, turning to the door wordlessly.
"And once you're done," the detective added, "come back here. I think our talk will be done by then."
"Hmph," Bakugo said. "No worries, I'll take care of this brat."
Before Killua could take offense, the other boy was out the door, and he was alone again with the detective.
"Hero student, huh?" he said, looking at Detective Naomasa.
"It's a relatively recent development, in the grand scale of things," the detective explained, posture becoming more relaxed. "Once quirks began developing and evolving in our society, the need for trained heroes became clear. Hero academies license students to perform heroic acts. It would be dangerous for untrained civilians to interfere in villain attacks."
"Villain attacks…" Killua muttered. Another foreign concept. Then, he asked, "Quirks haven't always existed?"
Naomasa shook his head. "The first quirk appeared several hundred years ago. The cause is a mystery, though now nearly everyone has one."
"Huh." Killua took a moment to process that.
"That isn't what I wanted to talk to you about, however," Naomasa said, causing Killua to meet his eyes. "While you are in our world, you are a child, and need a home. I wanted to talk with you about options."
Killua's eyes narrowed. "If I make enough money at Sencha's mom's restaurant, I can find my own place to stay."
Naomasa shook his head.
"Do you know how much apartments cost here?"
Killua shook his head.
Naomasa said a number that made his eyes pop.
"Per month!?" Killua exclaimed. "What are you paying for, a luxury hotel?"
Naomasa smiled, but it almost looked like a grimace this time. "Only a small flat, but in the city, they are expensive. Much more than you could earn as a lone child working part-time at a restaurant. Besides, there are other concerns."
"Such as?" Killua asked suspiciously.
"As a child, you are legally required to have a guardian and go to school. Now, depending on how quickly we can find a solution to your going home, we can push off the second one, but the first is a necessity."
"Your world is too complicated," Killua grumbled. "Okay, what is a guardian and how do I get one?"
Naomasa laughed. "A guardian is like a parent. They take care of you, feed you, make sure your needs are taken care of."
"Oh." Killua's face twisted into a frown. "I'd rather work for what I have," he said, shortly, "I don't want to be under someone else's control."
"And that's an admirable attitude, to want to work for what you have," Naomasa said. "It may be possible to come to a similar arrangement, if you desire. But first, we have to look at the options you have before you."
"I'm listening."
"First," he said, lifting a finger, "if the Sencha's are willing, they can take you in for some time. They'd only have to sign some paperwork stating that they will take care of you for an indefinite amount of time."
Killua frowned, but nodded. That wasn't too different from what he had been hoping for; he'd still work, just the same, he supposed. That wasn't so bad.
"Second, you can also go into foster care. This isn't ideal, because you don't know who will be able to take you in. However, if the Sencha's are unable to take you in, there isn't much of an option."
"Ah," Killua said. "Those are the only legal options?"
The detective raised an eyebrow, then nodded.
"I see." Killua reclined back on the chair. "I think Sencha and her mom will be fine with it," he pronounced finally. If not, he'd find his own way.
The eyebrow raised yet again.
"It's not an easy decision for them, you understand. It is a lot of responsibility."
Killua drew on some of Gon's optimism. "I think it'll be fine," he said, smiling.
"Well," the detective said, "if you are sure, then at the very least we can ask them."
Ultimately, it went as Killua expected. The Sencha and her mom came back in, Miss Sencha dithered and dathered, but then she decided that she could at least, for a little while, take care of him. Only, she would have to ask Sencha's father first.
The detective was fine with that. He said that for the first days it could be "an informal living arrangement", as they got used to each other and made a final decision. He told them about Killua's situation, and that he wasn't sure when they'd find a way for him to return back to his universe, though he assured them all that it must be possible with the variety of existing quirks in the world. After all, Killua's very arrival proved that it was at least possible. The Sencha's were shell-shocked, but lived in a crazy enough world that they were able to accept it.
"For today, however," the detective said, "I was hoping that young Killua could personally meet with the heroes to discuss his situation."
By the time Bakugo returned, everyone was in agreement, and Killua was a little bemused by how smooth sailing everything was. Almost too good to be true, really.
The policemen then took some photos of Killua and gave him an ID card some minutes later. The Senchas gave Bakugo their address, as he was a trusted hero student and now responsible for Killua. Then, finally, after a cheeky goodbye wave to Detective Naomasa, they were out the door, and Killua and Bakugo parted ways from the Senchas.
"Now, look here, brat," Bakugo said, scowling, leveling his eyes on Killua once they were out of sight from the family. "You better not cause any trouble, you hear?"
Killua smiled innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it."