Prisoner Arena

Gon and the other four stood in a row on the arena floor. Across from them, five prisoners emerged from the shadows, their handcuffs removed. Their faces remained hidden.

The arena speakers crackled, and Lippo's businesslike voice rang out.

"One-on-one matches. If the candidates win three matches, all five pass the Trick Tower trial. There is no time limit for each match. It ends when one side concedes. Candidates, please choose your first fighter."

Gon immediately raised his hand.

Tonpa reached out to stop him.

"I'll go first." Tonpa patted his chest with a broad smile. "I've taken the exam thirty-five times. Let this old hand test what they can do."

Leorio frowned at him. "You? You voted against us every time during the majority-rule trial."

"That was caution, caution." Tonpa raised both hands, looking utterly sincere. "This is a fight, and I really do want to help us win. Let me find out what they're capable of so the rest of you know what you're up against."

Gon thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Mr. Tonpa can go first."

Kurapika said nothing, watching Tonpa warily. Killua leaned against the railing with his hands in his pockets, a mocking smile on his lips.

All five voted in favor of sending Tonpa first.

Tonpa walked to the center of the arena. A bald, heavily muscled man stepped out of the shadows opposite him. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a body covered in scars and arms bulging with veins.

"I'm Bendot. Sentenced to a hundred and ninety-nine years for robbery and murder." His booming voice carried a murderous edge. "I propose a fight to the death. We keep going until one of us stops breathing. What do you say?"

Tonpa struck a textbook fighting stance, looking thoroughly imposing. "Sure. I accept."

Bendot roared and stamped his right foot down, shaking the entire arena floor. He charged at Tonpa like a bull, his raised right fist whistling toward Tonpa's head.

Just as the punch was about to land—

Tonpa dropped to his knees with a thud, slammed his forehead against the floor, and screamed at the top of his lungs, "I GIVE UP!!!"

Bendot skidded to a stop and nearly tripped over his own feet. His fist froze less than five centimeters from Tonpa's head. He stood rigid, eyes wide as saucers.

For three full seconds, the entire arena fell silent.

The moment Tonpa returned to the viewing area, Leorio exploded. He lunged forward, seized Tonpa by the collar, and roared, veins standing out on his forehead. "What the hell was that?! You gave up without even fighting? You could've at least dodged when he charged! Do you realize you just handed them a point?"

Tonpa looked unconcerned as he slowly pried Leorio's fingers loose. "No way am I fighting someone like that. He might kill me. We've still got four matches anyway. Losing one doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?!" Leorio shook with rage. "You think it doesn't matter?! The five of us are in this together! How can you be so selfish?"

Tonpa's smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold malice.

"Selfish? I never planned to pass the exam with you. I don't even want to be a Hunter."

He leaned close to Leorio and lowered his voice, enunciating every word.

"I've taken the Hunter Exam thirty-five times just to watch hopeful newcomers like you get beaten down until all that hope is gone. Nothing in life gives me more pleasure."

"You bastard!" Leorio was too furious to say another word. His fist clenched tight, and he raised it to strike.

Kurapika caught Leorio's wrist and held him back. "Don't, Leorio. Fighting among ourselves now will only waste time. That's exactly what the prisoners want."

Leaning against a railing farther away, Killua kept his hands in his pockets and added coldly, "He's not wrong, though. That musclehead planned to beat him half to death, then drag the match out for three or four hours to cut his sentence. Giving up right away actually saved us a lot of time."

Bendot still stood in the middle of the arena, his fist raised. He looked down at it, then at Tonpa walking away, and forced a few bitter words through clenched teeth.

"Lucky you..."

In the surveillance room, Lippo watched the screen, the corner of his mouth twitching. He quickly hid his face behind his coffee cup, pressed the broadcast button, and struggled to keep his tone professional.

"The prisoners win the first match. The score is zero to one. Candidates, please choose your second fighter."

In the lower hall, Saitama woke and looked up at the timer. Less than an hour had passed. He shifted in his chair, leaned back, and resumed staring at a crack in the ceiling. The proctor sat at his desk pretending to study the registration sheet, stealing occasional glances at him.

Saitama closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

Back in the arena.

"I'll take the second match." Gon volunteered and stepped forward.

Sedokan emerged from the shadows opposite him. Tall and thin, with long fingers, he held two candles between them—one long, one short.

"Let's have a candle-burning contest." Sedokan held up the candles. His voice was calm. "We light them at the same time. Whoever's candle goes out first loses. You can decide by majority vote whether to take the long one or the short one."

The five gathered together. Leorio scratched his head. "What kind of trick is this?"

Kurapika looked at Gon. "Trust your instincts. Pick one."

Gon glanced at the candles and answered without hesitation. "I'll take the long one."

"Why?"

"Because a longer candle should burn longer."

Kurapika nodded. All five voted in favor.

A faint smile touched Sedokan's lips. He had prepared four candles. Whether Gon chose long or short, Sedokan could hand him one he had tampered with.

He gave Gon the long candle and kept the short one.

They lit their candles at the same time. At first, both flames burned steadily, flickering gently on the arena floor. Gon cupped a hand around his flame and watched it closely.

Before long, the flame on Gon's long candle suddenly grew. It leaped higher, burning noticeably faster. Wax dripped onto the floor with a faint hiss.

Leorio shouted, "Why is your candle burning so fast?"

An almost imperceptible smile crossed Sedokan's face. His short candle still burned steadily, its flame low and even.

Gon stared at his candle for a few seconds. The flame climbed higher and higher, and the candle was visibly shrinking. If he didn't act now, it would be too late.

Then he did something no one expected: he crouched and set his candle on the floor.

Leorio stared. "What are you doing?!"

The candle kept burning after Gon let go. He stood and charged at Sedokan.

Sedokan's pupils contracted, and he instinctively stepped back. But Gon was already in front of him. Gon drew a deep breath—"Whoosh!"

Sedokan shielded his candle with his hand, but the blast of air was too strong. The short candle's flame thrashed, bent sideways, and went out.

Gon's long candle still burned steadily on the floor. The oil it had been soaked in made its flame larger, but also harder for the wind to extinguish.

Sedokan looked down at the dead candle in his hand. The last wisp of smoke from its wick scattered in the lingering gust.

"...I lost."

He turned and walked back into the shadows.

The score was tied, one to one.

Gon bent to pick up the still-burning long candle and blew it out. The wick burned his fingertip, and he shook his hand before giving his teammates a thumbs-up. Leorio rushed onto the arena floor and clapped him on the shoulder. "You scared me to death! I thought you were going to lose—" A small smile appeared on Kurapika's face. Killua leaned against the railing and, for once, had no wisecrack to offer.

In the lower hall, Saitama opened his eyes and yawned. The timer was still counting. He sat up, pulled out the sausage he had asked the proctor for earlier, and took a bite. It had gone cold and was a little tough. He searched another pocket for a compressed biscuit and slowly chewed, alternating bites of sausage and biscuit.

When Saitama finished eating, he walked over to the proctor's desk. "Where's the bathroom?" The proctor pointed him in the right direction. When Saitama returned, he settled into a different position in his chair and closed his eyes. The hall fell quiet.

In front of the television, Genos stared at the screen.

He had memorized every part of the Hunter Exam. After the Prisoner Arena in Trick Tower came more waiting, then the wall in the passage. His teacher would have to sit around in that lower hall for a long time. On-screen, Saitama leaned back in his chair, pulled an empty compressed-biscuit wrapper from his pocket, shook it twice, then tipped the last crumbs into his mouth.

Genos looked down at the open bag of potato chips on the coffee table, then toward the fridge. Inside were premium wagyu beef, eggs, and cabbage. But those were for his teacher when he got back. Genos couldn't touch them.

He got up and went to the kitchen, washed his hands, measured out enough rice for two from the bag, and put it in the rice cooker. He pressed the cook button.

A red light came on. The rice and water began to heat.

Genos returned to the sofa and sat down. On-screen, his teacher shifted position and went back to sleep facing the chair back. He could sleep for a long while yet.