The First Prince's Overture

Early the next morning, the sound of thudding footsteps came from the corridor.

Gon was wearing a tracksuit and running laps around the corridor. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and his feet pounded against the floor.

Killua leaned against the wall with a lollipop in his mouth, watching him run lap after lap.

"You're really training?"

"Of course I am!" Gon stopped to wipe away his sweat, his eyes shining. "Mr. Saitama's method is definitely effective! I've kept it up for five days already!"

Killua rolled his eyes.

"If you keep it up, you'll stomp straight through the corridor floor. Then the First Prince will come looking for repair costs, and you'll have to pay out of pocket."

Leorio burst out of his room with his hair sticking up in all directions, his buttons fastened incorrectly.

"What time is it? What time is it? Are we going to be late? I was looking up information until midnight last night and overslept!"

He carried a medical kit, his shoelaces still untied, and nearly ran into the wall.

Killua clicked his tongue.

"Can you be a little more reliable? We're going to an appointment, not rushing off to an early-morning market."

"I was worried we'd be late. What if the Fourth Prince got impatient and attacked?" Leorio scratched his head and redid his buttons. "I read through half a book of assassination cases last night. Poison in tea, knives hidden behind screens, dropping a cup as a signal—I've studied them all. I'll keep my eyes on the teacups and guarantee no one can poison them."

"Read fewer trashy books." Kurapika came out of his room in clothes suited for movement, the chain pendant hidden beneath his collar. "There aren't that many tricks."

Genos came over, data refreshing on his