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The two words that come to mind when Killua thinks of the rain on Whale Island are green and warm. Two words Killua Zoldyck would never use to describe the kind of rain that fell back home. On Whale Island, rain fell as gently as mown grass kicked up by a soft breeze. Other times it poured in a kind of comfortable sharpness, not unlike the snap and rumble of a clean sheet on a clothes line. And there were mornings it cascaded with bristling determination that promised a fresh, clean start and an aftermath of mugginess that was never too smothering; like a hug from an old friend. But no matter what type of rain fell – everything was always green and warm.
The first time Killua experienced the rain on Whale Island he had been sitting at the window of his best friend’s bedroom, watching the once pristine blue sky rapidly disappear behind large, dark grey clouds. Gon Freecs, Killua’s aforementioned best friend, could be seen below in the backyard, tugging off and bundling up the clothing that flapped frantically with the growing storm’s approach.
A door somewhere out of Killua’s line of sight opened and a woman’s voice echoed across the yard. Gon paused in his scrambling and called back. What the two were saying, Killua couldn’t hear now that the wind had picked up, bringing with it thunder.
The wind also brought a slight drop in temperature. Nothing as cold as what he experienced on his mountain back home, but still chill enough to make Killua pull on a long-sleeved black shirt over his tank top.
Rapid footsteps up a flight of wooden stairs told Killua Gon was now indoors.
“Killua!” rang out Gon’s ever cheerful cry; his way of saying hello. Killua smirked.
“Hey, Gon,” Killua said uncurling himself from his seat by the window and stretching his arms out in front of him; looking not unlike a cat disturbed from its nap.
Gon rushed over to the window and pressed his face to the glass. “Looks like it’s gonna be a big summer storm. Aunt Mito and I got all the clothes down just in time!”
As if in response to Gon’s words, the sheet of rain that had been darkening the horizon to the west finally hit the house. The rain poured so hard against the window panes that not even droplets could be discerned among the deluge.
“I wonder how long it’ll last,” Killua mused. Back on Kukuroo Mountain the rains lasted days, sometimes weeks. It covered the surrounding forest in deep greys and unfathomable, washed-out blues. Once gone, the world outside the Zoldyck mansion would lay in a thick fog, gentle and suffocating.
“Probably not too long,” came Gon’s distracted reply. He had taken up Killua’s abandoned seat next to the window, resting his elbows on the sill and cupping his chin in his hands.
Killua stood for a few seconds staring at Gon’s face, watching grey light and rainy shadows dance from the tip of his forehead down his nose and cheeks to disappear beneath his chin. While he would never admit it to himself, Killua had found that staring at Gon was not an unpleasant pastime, and when the chance arose, he never hesitated to take it.
“Killua?” Gon’s gaze turned from the window, and Killua ducked his head, his cheeks warming suddenly. “Killua?” Gon repeated. “I asked if you wanted to jump in the puddles once it stopped raining.”
“Huh?”
Gon leapt up, slamming both of his bare feet onto the floorboards as if to demonstrate the proper art of puddle jumping sans water.
“Don’t you jump in the puddles when the rain stops back home?” Gon asked.
“No,” Killua snorted. “That sounds like you’d get all wet from doing that.”
“Yeah, that’s the point!”
“Sounds stupid to me.”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Is not! And I’ll prove it!”
Gon marched towards his closet and threw open the doors. From inside he pulled out a pair of rubber green boots that matched his shorts and jacket perfectly. Killua would have laughed at the fact that each boot had a little green frog printed on the toe, but Gon’s pouty determined face told him to hold it in. When Gon got like this there was nothing stopping him. Killua sighed, resigning himself to his friend’s latest whim.
The two stood under the awning of the front door twenty minutes later watching the sheets of rain subside into lazy drizzle and, eventually, a warm mist as the grey clouds blew further west, taking with them the storm. Wisps of the sun’s light began to reemerge as the clouds took their leave. The light played on the surface of the dozen or so puddles now scattered throughout the dirt path that led from Gon’s front door and on down the hill.
Killua peered into the one nearest to him and saw his refection staring back. He was wearing a spare set of rain boots Gon happened to own – thankfully without any little amphibians painted across them.
“So, we just jump in the puddles? That’s it,” Killua said straightening up.
In answer, Gon took a running leap and landed right in the middle of the largest puddle before them. Muddy water shot up and drenched the front of Killua’s pant legs.
“Hey!”
“See just like that!”
“You got me all wet, idiot!”
Gon didn’t respond instead he jumped out of his first puddle and ran to find another. Killua turned to look at the puddle he’d examined earlier. For some reason he couldn’t help but think what his eldest brother would say to him right now: Kil, don’t disturb the puddles. Even the sound of splashing water will give away your position. Go around them.
Or something like that, Killua mused. He glanced up to see Gon jump into two puddles at once, each foot in its own puddle. This apparently wasn’t a good idea because Gon wobbled crazily on his feet, his balance thrown off and then landed spectacularly on his rear in the mud behind him. Killua laughed. Gon laughed too.
But his eldest brother wasn’t here right now. Was he?
Killua curled his lips into a smirk, imagined his brother’s stupid face in the puddle before him, and jumped. Water sprayed everywhere. Killua jumped again. And again. And again. Before long he and Gon were drenched from head to toe, muddy and breathless with laughter.
“Okay, so you were right,” Killua finally said after he’d helped to fish Gon out of a particularly deep puddle. It had looked small and innocuous enough, but the mud had hidden its depth, and the next thing Gon knew, he was standing in water so high it nearly touched the bottom of his green shorts. It took Killua five whole minutes just to stop laughing at the sight of Gon scolding the very deep puddle for tricking him.
“I told you so!” Gon grinned as he gripped Killua’s hand tight and allowed the other boy to drag him out of his watery trap once Killua’s laughing fit had subsided.
“Yeah, yeah.” But Killua continued to grin. “Don’t let it go to your head, idiot.”
“I’m glad I have you to jump in puddles with, Killua,” Gon said with unabashed sincerity. Any other person would look quite silly, making such a solemn declaration while being soaked through with muddy rain water and wearing frog-covered rain boots. Not Gon though.
Killua felt his cheeks warm again, but he didn’t avert his eyes. “Yeah. It’s a lot more fun – together.”
The sun had begun to evaporate most of the rain water, and the mist hovering in the air around them grew warm, blurring the edges of the world. It left Killua feeling as if he were swimming in a sea of green; the grass, the trees, and the bushes, all wrapped up in that warming mist. And there was Gon as green and warm as everything else.