Tower Top

The airship landed atop Trick Tower.

The examinees stepped out of the cabin and onto the platform at the tower's summit. The tower was pitch-black, with no windows. The wind howled, making their clothes flap loudly.

Beans stood in the middle of the rooftop, holding a loudspeaker. "Examinees, this is the top of Trick Tower, and the site of the third Hunter Exam. The rules are simple—if you reach the ground alive within seventy-two hours, you pass. Begin!"

With that, he vanished. The examinees were left staring at one another on the rooftop.

"From the top of the tower to the ground?" One examinee walked to the edge and looked down. "That has to be several hundred meters—"

Examinee Number 86, who called himself a climbing expert, patted his chest. "A mere cliff is nothing to a top-class climber!" He began scaling the outside of the tower with his bare hands. Halfway down, several six-legged flying beasts suddenly burst from the tower's shadowy recesses, their enormous wings blotting out half the sky. A scream echoed from outside the tower, growing fainter and fainter.

Leorio's legs went weak. "So we can't climb down the outside either?!"

Kurapika calmly scanned the rooftop. "People are disappearing. There are hidden doors up here."

Gon crouched down and tapped the stone slabs with his hand. "This one sounds hollow."

Killua walked over with his hands in his pockets and stepped on another slab nearby. "This one's loose too. There's one hidden door per person, packed closely together."

Gon stood and waved at Leorio and Kurapika. "Everyone, come over! These slabs should be the hidden doors. Pick one each!"

Leorio and Kurapika came over. The four of them each stood before a loose stone slab. Gon looked up at Saitama. "Big Brother Saitama! Find one too!"

Saitama was picking mud off the tip of his shoe. It had gotten there when he caught pigs in the forest earlier. He looked up at the four of them getting into position, walked over, and glanced down at a slab beneath his feet. "This one's solid."

"Then look for another—" Gon was about to help him when Killua stepped on his own hidden door. The slab flipped over, and he dropped straight down. Gon reached for him but missed. "Killua!" Before he could finish, the slab beneath his own feet flipped over too, and he vanished from the rooftop.

Kurapika glanced at Leorio. "Let's go too. We'll meet up below." He stepped onto his hidden door and disappeared.

Leorio was just about to step onto his own hidden door when he turned back and saw Saitama still standing there. "Big Brother Saitama! Aren't you looking for a hidden door?"

"No."

Leorio froze for a moment. "Then we'll meet up below?"

Saitama walked to the edge of the rooftop and looked down. It was several hundred meters to the ground, where a field of broken stone lay below. The outer wall was completely smooth, with nothing to grab onto. The six-legged flying beasts had already returned to the tower's shadows, their wings folded up like several gray patches.

"I'll go down this way. You guys take the hidden doors."

Leorio followed his gaze toward the outside of the tower, recalling the climbing expert's scream from earlier. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "There are flying beasts outside—"

"It's fine. I'm faster than birds."

Leorio opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but the slab beneath his feet had already loosened. Before he could finish, he vanished into the hidden door.

Only Saitama remained on the rooftop.

He had seen this episode. Those flying beasts only attacked people climbing down the outer wall. Going through the hidden doors meant spending three days winding through a maze—majority rule, voting, prisoner battles, minefield backgammon, and a whole pile of random challenges. Gon and the others could make it through, barely emerging before the seventy-two hours ran out. If he went in with them, he would be useless anyway, and he would have to waste three days and nights with them. No sleeping, no hot meals, and he would have to listen to Leorio and Kurapika argue.

Better to jump straight down. He would be there in three seconds. Besides, the rules said any method was allowed.

Saitama leaped.

Wind roared into his ears, whipping his clothes violently. A six-legged flying beast happened to fly past him and was sent tumbling by the air current, shrieking as it slammed into the tower wall. He did not notice it at all, only watching the ground rush closer. His toes touched down first, then the rest of his feet. The ground shattered beneath him, and a ring of air burst outward, spraying rubble in every direction. Dust shot high into the air, and a human-shaped crater exploded into the ground.

He stood up from the crater and brushed the dust off his clothes. Not bad. They were barely dirty.

The tower's base was a solid rock wall, with no door. He clenched his fist and lightly tapped it. The wall crumbled like paper, rocks collapsing with a clatter and revealing a neat hole. Light from the tower's ground-floor hall shone through it. He bent over and crawled inside.

The ground-floor hall was spacious. In the center was a registration area, where a proctor sat sorting registration forms. Hearing the huge crash, he looked up and saw a bald man walk in through a hole in the wall. His mouth fell open, and the forms slipped from his hands.

Saitama walked over and sat beside a chair. Then he reached into his pocket—empty.

That piece of roasted pork.

He had carried it all the way, from the grill to the cooking station, from the cooking station to the airship, keeping it in his pocket the entire time. He sighed. His pocket had felt loose when he jumped down earlier. He should have fastened it tighter.

He stood up, crawled out through the hole in the wall, and looked up at the tower's summit.

Then he jumped straight back up from where he stood.

Another tremendous crash rang out. The ground shattered again, and dust surged even higher than before. He stood once more on the rooftop's stone slabs. The pork lay beside the flipped-open hidden door, completely cold, with a layer of white, frost-like grease congealed over the fatty part. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he jumped down earlier. He picked it up and checked it. It had not gotten dusty. He put it into his inner pocket and fastened the flap this time.

He turned, returned to the edge of the tower, and jumped down again.

Another huge crash. Before the dust in the crater at the tower's base had even settled, another circle of rubble burst outward. A third human-shaped crater overlapped the first two, cracks spreading from its edges all the way to the rock wall at the tower's foundation.

Saitama stood up from the crater, crawled through the hole in the wall again, and sat beside the chair. He took out the pork and bit into it. It was completely cold, and the fatty part had hardened under a layer of white, frost-like grease. He chewed twice.

"It's not as good as supermarket boxed lunches."

The proctor looked down at his feet. Cracks had spread inward from the wall, splitting one of the floor tiles beside him. He looked up at the bald man in the chair, then at the neat hole in the wall, then at the three overlapping human-shaped craters outside. His mouth opened and closed, then closed and opened again.

He put his glasses back on and wrote a note on the registration form: Approximately ten minutes after the third phase began, one examinee jumped from the top of the tower, smashed through the outer wall at the base, and entered the ground-floor hall. He has seated himself voluntarily. He is currently eating roasted pork. Awaiting further instructions.

In a surveillance room somewhere inside the tower, Lippo was holding a cup of coffee as he reviewed the feeds from each passage when his movements suddenly stopped. He pushed up his glasses and leaned closer, repeatedly dragging back the footage from the past few seconds—one person jumped from the tower's summit and made a crater. Then he jumped back to the summit to retrieve something, jumped down again, and made a second crater. Then he punched through the outer wall at the tower's base and bent over to crawl inside.

Lippo set down his coffee. The cup wobbled on the desk, spilling several drops of brown liquid. He pulled up the examinee's file. The name listed on it was: Saitama. Everything else was blank. No record of Nen ability, no place of origin, no age—only a photograph: bald, yellow T-shirt, looking as though he had just woken up.

Lippo stared at the screen for a long time. Then he marked the file with a red dot and ordered all surveillance personnel to keep close watch on him.

In the ground-floor hall, Saitama leaned back in his chair, gnawing on pork while staring at the timer. He had seen this episode. They would be in there for a full three days. This piece of pork was only enough for today. What was he supposed to eat tomorrow? He frowned.

He took a huge bite of pork and said through a mouthful, "I hope they come out soon. Otherwise, the pork will be gone before long."