“Because my family decided what I would become before I was old enough to choose.”
Tonpa slowly raised his eyes to Killua.
This was the response his lie had been designed to draw out.
He had borrowed pieces of Killua’s past, turned assassins into thieves, and waited for the boy to recognize himself inside the story.
Now, the bait had taken hold.
Tonpa let none of that reach his face.
He left the silence to Gon, who asked:
“What profession did they choose for you?”
Killua shifted his gaze from Gon to the window.
“Assassination.”
Tonpa allowed his breath to catch.
His eyes widened before he straightened in his seat.
He did not recoil dramatically or gape like an idiot.
Restrained shock was far more convincing than theatrical panic.
“Assassination?”
Killua glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
“My family consists of professional assassins.
Almost all of them are in the same line of work, and I was supposed to carry it on after them.”
None of this was new to Tonpa, but hearing it from Killua himself gave the information a weight it had never possessed on a screen.
The boy seated across from him looked like an ordinary child and could still kill most of the people aboard the airship with his bare hands.
Gon leaned forward.
“Did they start training you when you were little?”
“Almost from the day I was born.”
Killua raised one hand and examined it.
“They taught me how to kill, how to resist poison, and other things an assassin needs.
They wanted me to become the heir to the family, but I didn’t want them deciding everything about my life.”
Gon asked:
“Is that why you left home?”
Killua nodded.
“I wounded my mother and brother when they tried to stop me, then ran away.
I heard the Hunter Exam was difficult, so I decided to try it.
It sounded better than going home.”
Gon blinked twice, but Killua delivered the words in the same tone someone else might use to describe an ordinary argument.
Tonpa lowered his gaze slightly, as though the story had dragged him back into memories of his nonexistent family.
“Then you got out before the profession they chose became your entire life.”
Killua turned toward him.
Tonpa continued:
“It doesn’t matter what they trained you to do.
What you choose to do with that training from now on is up to you.”
Killua did not answer immediately.
Gon said:
“You can look for something you want to do after the exam.”
Killua looked at him, and a small smile appeared on his face.
“Maybe.”
Tonpa added:
“But you should give your parents at least a little credit.”
The smile vanished.
“Credit for what, exactly?”
“They made you strong enough to leave them.”
Killua stared at him.
“They used to electrocute me during training.”
Tonpa paused, then nodded with manufactured wisdom.
“Then appreciate the results from a safe distance.
I don’t think a thank-you visit will be necessary.”
A laugh escaped Gon, and one corner of Killua’s mouth rose before he hid it.
Tonpa turned toward the window to conceal his satisfaction.
He had used Killua’s stolen story to coax a confession out of him, then used that same confession to offer advice about independence.
‘Even the advice wasn’t mine.’
The conversation quieted after that, but none of them left their seats.
Gon and Killua exchanged occasional comments about the exam while Tonpa watched the corridor reflected in the window glass. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
He had not remained because he enjoyed the conversation, nor because he wanted to spend the night in the company of a child assassin.
He was waiting for Netero.
In the original course of events, the Chairman had encountered Gon and Killua aboard the airship after their conversation, then offered them a game of taking the ball from him.
Tonpa could not remember exactly how much time had passed between Killua’s confession and Netero’s appearance, but the meeting was supposed to happen tonight.
He needed to see it.
The Second Phase now had forty-eight survivors instead of forty-two, and the system had already warned him that events were diverging.
Perhaps the changes remained limited.
Or perhaps his knowledge of the future had already begun crumbling without him realizing it.
If Netero appeared and the ball game took place, Tonpa would at least have proof that the main course of events remained intact.
If he did not…
‘Then I’ll start panicking.’
Some time passed.
Clouds drifted beyond the glass, and the lights of one city below gradually gave way to another.
A crew member walked through the corridor before disappearing behind a metal door.
Netero did not come.
Tonpa could not ask for the time without looking as though he were waiting for an appointment.
He settled for moving his leg as it began to go numb while Gon talked about Whale Island.
Another stretch of time passed, and frustration slowly crept in.
Perhaps his presence alone had been enough to change the meeting.
Perhaps the additional applicants had given Netero something else to deal with.
Neither possibility would have seemed important before, but minor changes no longer looked harmless.
‘Don’t tell me I ruined the future by occupying an empty seat.’
He was considering giving up and going to sleep when a sudden pressure descended over the lounge.
Every muscle in his body locked.
He saw nothing, but the air grew heavier, and his chest tightened as though a predator had appeared directly behind him.
Gon stopped speaking, while Killua shifted into a ready stance without rising from his seat.
The pressure came from the far end of the corridor to their right.
All three turned toward it.
The corridor was empty.
The pressure vanished a moment later, and a calm voice reached them from the opposite direction.
“Good reaction.”
They spun around.
Netero stood to the left of the seats with both hands behind his back.
He had not been there before they turned, and Tonpa had not seen him cross from one side to the other.
Tonpa could think of only one explanation.
The Chairman must have noticed them first, sent the pressure of his aura from the right, then moved to the opposite side before they completed their turn.
Gon’s eyes widened.
Killua’s gaze moved between Netero and both ends of the corridor.
Tonpa nearly smiled from sheer relief.
‘He came.’
At least this landmark remained where it belonged.
The entire course of events had not collapsed yet.
Netero approached them and produced a striped ball from behind his back.
“You don’t seem interested in sleeping.
Would you like to join me in a little game?”
Gon and Killua looked at the ball.
Gon asked:
“What kind of game?”
Netero raised the ball above his palm.
“You try to take this from me.”
Gon immediately rose from his seat.
“I’m in.”
Killua stood after him.
“So am I.”
Tonpa placed a hand over his stomach and slowly got to his feet.
“I’m sorry, Chairman.
I’ve been feeling unwell since we left Swindlers’ Swamp.
I think I should rest.”
He had not waited this long because he wanted to participate.
He had only wanted to confirm that the event still existed. The source of this chapter is g.com.
‘I saw it.
This landmark survived.
That’s enough for tonight.’
Besides, Gon and Killua had no idea what they had just agreed to.
They saw a short old man holding a ball.
Tonpa knew that even Meruem had been unable to interrupt the motion of Netero’s prayer before it was completed.
This was not a game.
It was a polite way for the two boys to discover exactly how weak they were.
Tonpa turned to leave.
Ding!
The system’s chime pierced his skull before his foot could complete the step.
His expression went cold.
‘No.’
He did not need to see the window to know that the system had found a way to ruin his retreat.
[New Side Quest Created.]
Tonpa closed his eyes for a moment.
‘Of course.’
The presence of one of the strongest Hunters in the world was an opportunity a system calling itself the Con Artist System could not possibly leave alone.
‘What is it this time?
Steal the ball?
Defeat Netero?’
The rest of the quest appeared.
[Side Quest: Four Limbs.]
[Objective: Help Gon Freecss and Killua Zoldyck force Netero to use all four limbs during the game.]
Tonpa read the objective again.
It was not impossible, but neither was it a simple repetition of what he remembered.
In the original course of events, Gon had only managed to force Netero to use his right hand after hours of trying.
The system wanted a greater result in a fraction of the time.
The next condition appeared.
[Time Limit: One Hour.]
Tonpa felt as though the system had immediately withdrawn the reasonable part of the quest.
One hour instead of the entire night.
‘I knew the kindness wouldn’t last.’
They had a starting point, not a complete plan.
They would need to push Netero to the same point quickly, then force an additional movement that had never occurred in the original course of events.
The rewards appeared.
[Reward: 1,000 Nen Points.]
[Reward: 1,000 Experience Points.]
Tonpa’s hand fell away from his stomach.
One thousand points.
A single reward could push his abilities into an entirely new tier, while the experience might raise his level more than once if the system allowed it.
He waited for the penalty, expecting death or another threat of forced transportation to the Dark Continent.
[Penalty for Failure: None.]
Tonpa stared at the line.
‘None?’
He read it again, searching for some small word the system might have hidden at the end.
Nothing appeared.
This was the first quest the system had ever given him without placing a knife against his throat.
That alone made him more suspicious, not less.
Perhaps the system considered facing Netero punishment enough.
Tonpa released a quiet breath, then turned back toward the three of them.
Killua raised an eyebrow.
“Weren’t you sick?”
Tonpa removed his hand from his stomach and gave the time-limit line one final glance.
“I remembered that inactivity is bad for circulation.”
________________________________
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And remember: never accept juice from Tonpa.