Spider Eagle eggs were not worth jumping into a ravine.
That had been Tonpa’s opinion before he tasted one.
The applicants gathered around the pots prepared near the mountain and lowered their eggs into the boiling water.
No real cooking skill was required this time.
Even Tonpa managed to wait without ruining anything, which was a clear improvement over the pig he had nearly burned into charcoal.
Once the eggs were ready, Menchi inspected the pots and announced that everyone who had returned with an egg and prepared it as instructed had passed.
Cheers of relief spread through the applicants.
Gon raised his boiled egg as though he had won a prize, while Leorio sat on the ground and repeatedly declared that he would never approach the edge of a mountain again.
When Menchi allowed them to taste the eggs, Tonpa peeled his own.
A thin cloud of steam rose from it.
He took a cautious bite, then stopped as he chewed.
The flavor was annoyingly rich and tender.
‘Damn.
It’s actually delicious.’
Tonpa looked at the group.
“Well done.
We passed the Second Phase.”
Leorio stared at him.
“You say that as if you watched us from somewhere safe.
You jumped with us.”
“That’s why the congratulations include me.”
Gon laughed, while Killua merely shook his head.
No Trust notification appeared, and Tonpa did not expect one.
Not every friendly conversation was a deception.
Trying to turn every sentence into an investment would make him look like a salesman chasing customers even across mountaintops.
They returned to the airship shortly afterward.
The successful applicants climbed the metal stairs and spread throughout the main hall, where Netero waited with his hands clasped behind his back.
Beside him stood a short, green-skinned creature in a formal suit, holding a stack of papers.
Netero formally addressed them as Chairman of the Hunter Exam Committee, then introduced his secretary, Beans, who bowed politely to the applicants.
He explained that the airship would transport them to the site of the Third Phase and that they had several hours to rest or explore, provided they stayed away from restricted areas and did not interfere with the crew’s equipment.
Tonpa listened with only half his attention until Beans began reviewing the list of successful applicants.
His eyes moved across the rows, then slowly narrowed.
Something was wrong.
He counted again from the beginning.
Once, then a second time, expecting exhaustion to have made him count one of the faces twice.
The number did not change.
Forty-eight applicants.
Beans raised the list and announced the number clearly.
Netero then congratulated them on passing the first two phases.
Celebratory voices rose around Tonpa, and no one else appeared to see a problem.
To them, six additional survivors meant six stories of people escaping elimination.
To Tonpa, they meant six new variables whose consequences could appear anywhere.
There were supposed to be forty-two.
Tonpa swept his gaze across all forty-eight faces, unable to identify which six had not existed in the original course of events.
Perhaps the airship’s delay had given them more time to calm down.
He could not determine the precise cause.
He knew who was responsible.
‘I saved six people while trying not to look like an idiot.’
It had been a minor piece of advice.
He had not even revealed the secret of the updraft, yet the number had still changed.
Six additional applicants might mean nothing now, but they could alter how the applicants were distributed inside Trick Tower, change the order of later matches, or push someone onto a path they had never taken before.
The future did not require a powerful blow to change.
It only needed to be touched.
Tonpa looked away from them.
He could not throw the six applicants out of the airship to correct the number—at least not without creating far greater problems.
All he could do was watch for further changes and stop giving away advice for free.
As soon as the instructions ended, Leorio announced that he was going to sleep before one of the examiners decided to force them into another race.
Kurapika agreed, though he expressed the thought more politely, and the two headed toward the resting quarters.
Gon continued looking around with open excitement.
“I want to see the inside of the airship.”
“So do I,” Killua said.
“There has to be an engine room somewhere below us.”
They headed toward the corridor, and Tonpa followed them.
“I’ll come with you.”
Killua immediately turned toward him.
“No.”
Gon intervened.
“It’s fine.
The airship is huge.
We can explore together.”
Killua looked at Gon, then at Tonpa, as though trying to determine which of them had made the worse decision.
In the end, he placed both hands behind his head and continued walking.
Tonpa had no interest in the engines.
He merely wanted Killua to become accustomed to his presence.
Suspicion did not disappear quickly, but a face seen often enough gradually stopped looking like a new threat.
‘Trust is slow.
Familiarity is cheaper.’
The three wandered through the corridors, with Gon stopping at nearly every window and open doorway.
They never reached the engine room.
The smell of food led them instead to a small dining hall the crew had prepared for the applicants.
Gon quickly filled his plate, while Killua selected several desserts before touching the main course.
Tonpa gathered enough food for two people and sat across from them.
Killua examined his plate.
“Are you hungry, or are you preparing for winter?”
Tonpa answered with complete seriousness.
“During an exam, the food in front of you doesn’t belong only to the present.
Gon stopped chewing and nodded, visibly impressed by the wisdom.
Killua looked at Tonpa.
“So you’re hungry.”
Tonpa remained silent for a moment.
“That too.”
He continued eating with dignity, ignoring Killua’s smile.
His philosophy was not entirely wrong, which was a generous enough standard for any philosophy invented by a man sitting in front of enough food for two people.
After dinner, they continued exploring until they reached a quiet lounge along the side of the airship.
Wide windows stretched before the seats, revealing dark clouds drifting below them as moonlight reflected across the glass.
The place seemed familiar to Tonpa.
He stopped in the doorway.
If his memory had not betrayed him, this was where Killua had told Gon about his family in the original course of events.
The conversation he remembered had not begun yet.
Gon sat beside the window and pressed his face against the glass, fascinated by the clouds passing beneath the airship.
Killua chose the seat beside him, while Tonpa sat across from them.
“We’re higher than the mountains now,” Gon said.
“That’s what an airship is supposed to do,” Killua replied.
“I know.
Seeing it is different.”
Killua rested his head against the seat, but his eyes continued moving around the lounge, watching the doors, corridors, and reflections in the glass.
Even while relaxing, he never stopped paying attention to his surroundings.
Tonpa watched him in silence.
He knew what Killua was supposed to tell Gon if the conversation followed the course he remembered.
In the original scene, Tonpa had no place here.
Now he was sitting directly across from him.
Tonpa fixed his gaze on Killua’s reflection in the window.
An ugly idea began to form in his mind.
It should have made him feel ashamed.
It did not.
He did not need to invent a story from nothing.
The right story was already sitting in front of him, and its owner had not told it yet.
Tonpa only needed to borrow a few pieces and change enough of them to make the story appear to be his.
A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Gon noticed.
“Why are you smiling?”
The smile disappeared.
Tonpa lowered his eyes as though the question had pulled him back into a painful memory.
“I remembered something sad.”
Killua’s gaze shifted toward him.
Tonpa took a slow breath and prepared to begin the story.
‘I’ll return it after I’m done using it.’
________________________________
Want to keep reading?