I Entered the Fighting Tower to Get Stronger, But I Ended Up Falling For My Best Friend

The building scraped the sky. From the ground, it looked like it went on forever, a giant, circular tower daring anyone to climb it. I craned my neck back, a grin stretching my face. Heavens Arena. It was even bigger than I’d imagined. Beside me, Killua didn’t look impressed. He just had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze level and analytical, like he was already dissecting the place for weaknesses.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice casual, but I could see the spark of interest in his blue eyes. He was trying to act cool, but I knew he was just as excited as I was. He didn't have anywhere else to be, and for some reason, he’d decided that being with me was better than being alone. That thought made something warm settle in my chest.

“More than ready,” I said.

The first fifty floors were a blur. The fights were so easy they were almost boring. A push here, a quick jab there, and it was over. My opponents went down before I could even really get a feel for them. Killua was even faster. He moved like a silver flash, his fights ending in seconds. We barely broke a sweat.

With every win came a ticket for prize money. After cashing in our first batch, we went straight for the snack stand.

“We should aim for the two hundredth floor,” I said, my mouth full of chocolate. “I bet the fighters get really strong up there. And we could make enough money to pay Mito-san back for everything.”

Killua leaned against the wall, popping a ChocoRobo into his mouth. “Two hundred million Jenny by the time we hit the top floor,” he calculated, his eyes distant for a second. “Not bad for a few weeks of work.” He crunched down on the candy. “But it’s not just about the money, right? You want to get stronger. Find your dad.”

He said it so simply. He just… got it. He understood why I was here, what drove me, without me having to explain it all over again. I nodded, swallowing the lump of chocolate and emotion in my throat. “Yeah.”

He smirked, nudging my shoulder with his. “Well, you’re not getting there without me. Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Hey!” I protested, but I was laughing.

We fell into an easy rhythm. Fight, win, cash in, eat snacks. We moved up the floors so fast the receptionists started to recognize us. Our teamwork in the ring was perfect. I’d charge in, drawing their attention, and Killua would appear from nowhere, exploiting the opening I’d made. We didn’t need to talk or plan. We just moved together, two parts of the same whole. Every victory felt good, but the best part was afterward, sitting on a bench with Killua, counting our earnings and planning what junk food to buy next. It was simple, and it was perfect. I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Reaching the 100th floor felt different. The air was cleaner, the hallways were carpeted, and instead of just getting prize money, we were handed a key card. A room. Just for us.

“No way,” Killua said, swiping the card and pushing the door open. He let out a low whistle.

It wasn't huge, but it felt like a palace. Two beds with clean white sheets, a small table between them, and a massive window that looked out over the city lights twinkling below. For the first time since leaving Whale Island, I had a place that felt like more than just a temporary stop. A place to come back to after a fight. A place I would share with Killua.

The thought settled over me as I dropped my backpack on one of the beds. We weren't just fighting partners anymore. We were roommates.

I watched as Killua started to unpack. He was meticulous. He took out his few shirts and folded them into a perfect, crisp square before placing them in a drawer. His skate-board was propped carefully against the wall, out of the way. He lined up his collection of ChocoRobo boxes on the nightstand like little soldiers. There was a quiet intensity to his movements, a precision that I’d seen him use to disable an opponent in the ring, now applied to creating order in our small space.

I just stood there and watched him. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of his clothes. He wasn't putting on a show or trying to act cool. He was just… being. And seeing him like this, so focused and calm, made my own chest feel warm and full. It was a strange, peaceful feeling I’d never had before. A feeling of complete contentment that had nothing to do with winning a fight or eating good food. It was just about being here, with him.

Later, after we’d showered and changed, I found him standing by the window, his forehead pressed against the cool glass. He was staring down at the endless grid of streets and lights, but his eyes seemed a million miles away. His reflection was pale in the dark glass, his expression unreadable. I wondered what he was thinking about. His family? The life he ran away from? I had the sudden urge to go over there, to wrap my arms around him and tell him he didn't have to look so alone.

I didn't. I just stayed on my bed, watching the line of his shoulders, the silver of his hair catching the city glow. I didn't need to understand everything he was thinking. Just being near him, sharing this silence, felt like enough. It felt like everything.

He must have sensed me watching him, because he turned, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “What are you staring at, idiot?”

“Nothing,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended. “Just thinking we’ve got a pretty good view.”

He looked back out the window, then nodded. “Yeah. Not bad.”

Our next opponent was a mountain of a man named Gido. He was missing an arm, but he moved with a strange, spinning momentum, using a set of heavy wooden tops as weapons. He wasn't just strong; he was unpredictable. The fight started, and he immediately sent the tops whirling around the ring, their paths erratic and dangerous. They were more than just projectiles; they were a wall, keeping us separated.

“Stay back, Gon!” Killua yelled, dodging one of the spinning blurs.

But I saw an opening. Gido’s spinning left his back exposed for a split second. It was reckless, but I went for it. I charged, fist ready, but I hadn't accounted for the sheer force of his momentum. He didn’t even seem to see me. His body slammed into mine, not like a deliberate attack, but like a car hitting a post. The impact sent me flying. My head hit the hard floor of the ring, and the world went white with pain.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Killua shout my name. It wasn't his usual cool, detached tone. It was sharp, laced with something that sounded like panic. I pushed myself up, my vision swimming. Gido was laughing, a horrible, grating sound. He’d done it on purpose. It was a cheap shot.

Across the ring, I saw Killua’s entire posture change. The easy confidence was gone, replaced by something cold and lethal. His eyes, when they met mine, were like chips of ice. He wasn't just fighting to win anymore. He was fighting to hurt this man. He gave me the slightest nod, a gesture so small no one else would have noticed. But I knew what it meant. Distract him.

I got to my feet, my head pounding. I ignored the pain and focused on Killua, on the plan that passed between us in that single look. I became the bait. I ran, I dodged, I threw clumsy punches that Gido deflected with ease, his laughter growing louder. I was just a toy to him. But every move I made, every feint and dodge, was pulling his attention, drawing his spinning tops into a tighter, more predictable pattern around me.

Then I saw it. The flash of silver.

Killua moved so fast he was almost invisible. He wasn't attacking Gido. He was attacking the tops. With precise, vicious chops, he shattered them one by one, using their own momentum against them. Splinters of wood flew through the air. In seconds, Gido’s weapons were gone. He stopped spinning, his one eye wide with disbelief.

He was defenseless. He was open.

I didn’t wait for a signal. I pushed off the floor, pouring every bit of my frustration and anger into my fist. Killua had made the opening, and I was going to finish it. The punch landed square in his jaw, and the giant of a man crumpled.

The silence in the arena was deafening before the crowd erupted. But I didn't hear them. All I could hear was my own heart hammering in my chest. Killua was at my side in an instant, his hand on my arm.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and tight. His fingers were gripping my bicep, holding me steady.

“Yeah,” I breathed, leaning into his touch more than I meant to. We were both panting, covered in sweat and dust. The adrenaline was still singing through my veins, but underneath it was something else. A deep, profound sense of relief. We stood there for a moment in the center of the ring, the roar of the crowd a distant buzz. This wasn't like the other wins. This one had been ugly and desperate. We’d been tested, and we hadn’t broken. He’d trusted me, and I’d trusted him. Looking at him then, his fierce, protective gaze still locked on me, I knew this was more than friendship. It was a pact, sealed in sweat and struggle. We were in this together. Completely.