They stood before the door of a modest apartment in a quiet residential complex. Midoriya was trembling slightly, his uninjured hand nervously hovering over the doorknob while his right arm rested in a medical sling. Behind him, Killua stood completely relaxed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, silently observing this "normal" environment with mild curiosity. He had never visited a natural home before in his life.
"I-I'm back..." Midoriya announced nervously, pushing the door open.
"Izuku?! Is that you?"
A short, slightly plump woman rushed out of the kitchen with hurried steps. The moment Inko Midoriya's eyes landed on her son's broken arm and the bandages wrapping his face, she gasped in horror. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes as she ran toward him.
"Izuku! Oh my goodness, what happened to you?! Are these injuries from the entrance exam?! Are you okay?!"
"I-I'm fine, Mom, really! Recovery Girl healed me at the academy," Midoriya quickly tried to calm her down before she completely broke into tears, gesturing with his good hand toward the doorway. "Mom, this is... this is Killua. He took the exam with me, and he's the one who saved me from a fatal fall today."
Inko stopped fussing over her son and turned to look at the boy standing in the doorway. She saw a teenager with fluffy silver hair, pale skin, and large, deep blue eyes that blinked at her with innocent calmness. He looked like any ordinary, quiet boy—no trace of danger about him.
Inko immediately bowed deeply, her maternal gratitude completely overwhelming her worry. "Oh my! Thank you! Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart for saving my son's life! Please, come in, make yourself at home!"
Killua offered a small, polite nod, maintaining his calm facade, and stepped inside silently. He watched how Inko fluttered around her son, anxiously asking if he was hungry. It was a bizarre and foreign sight for the young assassin. There were no surveillance cameras, no armed butlers, and no mother screaming hysterically about the "strength of the bloodline." It was just... natural warmth.
A short while later, they were sitting at a small dining table. Inko placed two steaming bowls of Katsudon (pork cutlet bowl) in front of them.
"Eat up, both of you. You must be starving after such a long day," Inko said with a warm smile.
Killua picked up his chopsticks. In the Zoldyck estate, meals were strictly calculated for their nutritional value, and often laced with varying doses of poison to build immunity. Killua took a small, cautious bite of the Katsudon.
Suddenly, his blue eyes widened. A hidden sparkle appeared in them as his cat-like features softened. The heat of the rice, the rich flavor of the broth, and the tender meat... it wasn't just delicious food; it tasted like genuine, sincere care.
"Is the food to your liking, Killua?" Inko asked gently when she noticed his silent shock.
Killua quickly composed himself, a very faint blush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks. "Yeah... it's really good," he muttered softly, before digging in with a speed and appetite that surprised both Inko and Midoriya. For a brief moment, the cold assassin completely vanished, replaced by an ordinary, hungry teenager enjoying a warm home-cooked meal.
After dinner, Midoriya led his guest down the hall toward his room.
The moment Killua took a single step inside the bedroom, he froze in his tracks. His deadpan, emotionless expression returned in full force as he scanned the room. The walls, the ceiling, the shelves, the desk—almost every single square inch was covered in posters, action figures, and merchandise of a massively muscular man sporting an exaggeratedly wide smile.
Killua slowly turned his head toward Midoriya, looking at him with half-closed eyes full of judgment and mockery. "Are you completely obsessed with this guy with the weird eyebrows? Your room looks like a museum for madmen... This is an actual mental sickness, you know."
Midoriya's face exploded in a dark shade of red, and he frantically waved his hands in nervous denial. "N-No! I'm just a big fan! That's All Might! The Number One Hero and the Symbol of Peace! Don't you know him?!"
Killua ignored him entirely. He walked over to the desk, picked up a small All Might action figure, and began casually tossing it up and catching it. He then sat on the edge of Midoriya's bed. In an instant, his mocking demeanor vanished, replaced by a sharp, cutting seriousness.
"I have a question for you, Midoriya."
Midoriya swallowed hard, tensing at the sudden shift in the atmosphere. He sat on his desk chair nervously. "W-What is it?"
"In the arena... why did you jump toward that giant robot?" Killua asked, his voice calm and analytical. "You were trembling with fear the entire exam. You didn't have a single point. That robot was an obvious trap that awarded zero points. Intervening there meant the absolute destruction of your body, and possibly your death... all for a girl you don't even know."
Killua paused, leaning his upper body forward slightly. "In the place where I grew up, I was taught a golden rule: 'Calculate the odds of winning. If it isn't 100%, run away and don't look back.' Moving without a plan and without a guaranteed profit is pure stupidity that leads to death. So... why did you move?"
Midoriya looked down at his lap, his good hand gripping tightly. He didn't find Killua's words insulting; rather, he found them painfully logical. But he raised his head, looking at the giant All Might poster hanging above his bed. His green eyes shimmered with a pure, steady, and unwavering light.
"You're right... I didn't have a plan, and I wasn't thinking about points," Midoriya said, his voice surprisingly calm yet confident. "But in that moment, when I saw her trapped and asking for help... before my brain could even calculate the risks, my legs were moving on their own."
Killua's eyes widened slightly. "They moved on their own?"
"Yeah," Midoriya smiled—a small, sincere smile. "That's what All Might does. True heroes don't just save bodies, Killua. They save hearts from fear. When you see someone in despair, and you step in to tell them everything will be okay... that's the kind of hero I want to be. Even if my body shatters, I couldn't live with myself if I just stood there watching her die."
A heavy silence filled the room. Killua stared at the frail, broken boy sitting across from him. This logic... this blind, reckless philosophy that ignored death for the sake of others, completely contradicted and dismantled every fundamental principle of the Zoldyck family.
Yet, Killua didn't find it disgusting. He found it... bright. So blindingly bright that it almost hurt his eyes, which were so accustomed to living in total darkness.
"He's crazy..." Killua thought to himself, a microscopic, barely visible smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "But he's not weak at all."
Killua let out a long sigh and tossed the action figure back onto the desk. "Your philosophy is annoying, and it's going to get you killed one day," he stated coldly, though there was no malice in his tone. He stretched his arms high above his head and yawned like a tired cat. "Anyway, philosophy time is over. I'm exhausted."
"Ah, right!" Midoriya jumped up from his chair, relieved the intense conversation had ended. He opened his closet and pulled out a thick futon (Japanese floor mattress) and some blankets. "Let's get the floor futon set up."
Killua stood up, walking quietly to grab the other end of the futon. They worked together, carefully spreading the mattress on the wooden floor, smoothing out the wrinkles, and placing the pillow perfectly in the center.
"There," Midoriya smiled, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead. "The bed is all set for you—"
Before Midoriya could finish his sentence, Killua quietly walked right past him and climbed directly into Midoriya's actual bed. He rolled under the covers, pulled the thick blanket all the way up to his chin, and closed his eyes in complete comfort, as if he owned the place.
Midoriya froze in place, a giant sweatdrop appearing on the back of his head. He blinked several times, looking at the carefully arranged futon on the floor, and then at Killua lying in the bed, without saying a single word.
Killua peeked one blue eye open from beneath the covers, answering Midoriya's shocked stare with a perfectly deadpan expression. "I'm the guest. And I saved your life. It's only natural that I get the bed."
He closed his eye again and turned his back to Midoriya, sinking deeper into the soft mattress. "Night, Izuku."
Midoriya blinked a few more times. He didn't feel provoked or annoyed by Killua's sheer audacity. Instead, he let out a soft, defeated laugh, scratching the back of his head with his good hand.
"Hehe... well, I guess I can't argue with my savior, right?"
Izuku smiled genuinely, not minding the situation at all. He walked over to the neatly made futon on the floor, laid down, and turned off the lamp. He didn't know much about this mysterious silver-haired boy, but as he lay in the dark, he was absolutely certain of one thing: his life would never know the meaning of boredom again with a friend like him around