Gamble and Flying Beast

On the other side of the ground-floor hall, Hisoka leaned against the wall, flipping playing cards between his fingers one by one.

Saitama folded up the wrapper from his ninth sausage, tucked it into his pocket, then stood and stretched. He walked over to the waist-high hole in the wall and bent down to look outside. The sky had grown a shade darker than before. Three craters from earlier impacts still lay in the rocky ground outside the tower. A Six-Legged Flying Beast swept out from the tower's shadows, circled halfway around, then retreated back inside.

"I'm hungry." He turned around and scanned the hall. The examiner lowered his head and pretended not to see him. Hisoka was still leaning against the wall, shuffling cards in his hands.

He walked over to Hisoka and stopped in front of him.

"That love thing of yours that's like chewing gum, how far can it stick?" Saitama pointed at the hole in the wall. "There's a big bird outside. Can you stick it and pull it down for me?"

The playing cards in Hisoka's hands stopped. His pupils contracted slightly, and the smile froze on his face. Bungee Gum—he had never used that ability in the hall, nor had he ever mentioned its name in front of this man. Their last meeting had been in Visca Swamp. At the time, he had done nothing but stand in the middle of the path and study him for a few seconds before stepping aside. He had not even revealed a single playing card. There was no way this bald man could know his ability—unless he had seen through him long before that.

"How do you know that name?" Hisoka asked softly, all amusement gone from his voice.

"I saw it in an anime." Saitama paused. "Forgot which episode. Anyway, you can use it."

Hisoka stared at him for several seconds. This bald man spoke unlike anyone else—not to provoke, not to test him, not to flaunt information, but simply to state a fact. He drew a playing card from his pocket and slowly ran his thumb along its edge. "Finding fresh prey in an environment like this is much more interesting than the chilled stuff at a supermarket." He drew out the final note, narrowing his eyes. "But you have to tell me how you got here faster than I did. You were sitting here eleven hours ago."

"I jumped straight down."

Hisoka stood and walked over to the hole. "From the top of the tower?"

"Yeah. Took three seconds. Then I went back to pick up some pork and jumped down again."

Silence lingered for a few seconds.

Hisoka said nothing more. He drew a playing card from his pocket as pink aura seeped from his fingertips, thickly coating the card's face. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying through the hole. The card traced an arc through the air and sliced precisely into the Six-Legged Flying Beast's left wing. A taut thread of aura stretched between the card and his fingertips. The beast struggled violently and shrieked without pause. Hisoka pulled back with his palm, dragging the beast inch by inch toward the hole. Just as it was about to be pulled inside, Saitama raised a hand and lightly tapped the beast on the head. Its head drooped, and it went still.

"Now we can roast it." Saitama grabbed the flying beast by one leg and carried it to the examiner's desk. "Got any salt and cumin?" The examiner took two seasoning bottles from a drawer and set them on the desk. Saitama picked them up and examined the labels. "Free?" The examiner nodded. Saitama tucked the bottles into his pocket, carried the beast to the middle of the hall, squatted down, and began plucking its feathers. After pulling out two handfuls and deciding it was too slow, he looked up at Hisoka. "Can your chewing gum stick the feathers off too?"

Hisoka leaned against the wall without moving or answering. His eyes never left Saitama, while his fingers unconsciously rubbed the playing cards in his pocket.

On the arena stage, after Kurapika knocked Johny unconscious with a punch, he lay motionless on the ground, deliberately playing dead to stall for time. Leorio stared at the steadily ticking countdown on his wrist—only sixty hours of exam time remained. Gritting his teeth, he rolled up his sleeves and strode toward the prisoners' resting area.

"Hey! We can't keep wasting time like this. Who's in charge here?"

From the shadows opposite him, Leroute emerged from the darkness. Tall and slender, with waist-length hair and a faint smile on her lips, she said, "I'm Leroute. One hundred and twelve years in prison for trafficking endangered species and illegal gambling." Her voice was neutral, her tone light. "You want to fight me? I can't beat you. How about we gamble instead—using fifty hours of your exam time as the stake?"

"Gamble?"

"We take turns posing questions. Guess correctly, and you win your opponent's stake. Guess wrong, and you lose your own. The minimum stake is ten hours. One side loses when all their time is gone." She paused. "If the examinees win the final gamble, I'll immediately make Johny surrender, and the match will end."

Leorio pushed up his sunglasses. "Fine! I'll gamble with you!"

Leroute pointed at Johny lying on the ground. "First question—bet on whether that person lying there is dead or alive."

"I bet he's alive! Ten hours!" Leorio hurried onto the arena stage, lifted Johny's eyelids, and checked his carotid artery. He was still breathing, and his pulse was normal. "Alive. I win this round."

Leroute smiled and nodded. "That's right, you win. Your time is now sixty hours."

Leroute continued, "Second question—bet on whether he's deliberately pretending to be unconscious."

"I bet he's faking it! Ten hours!"

"I'll bet twenty hours that he's genuinely unconscious."

Leorio walked over to Johny and crouched beside him, speaking in a voice neither too loud nor too soft. "I'll count to three. If you don't wake up, I'll throw you off this arena. One. Two. Three." He suddenly grabbed Johny by the collar, lifted his entire body off the ground, and strode toward the edge of the stage. A few seconds before he let go, Leroute suddenly spoke. "I change my bet. He's not genuinely unconscious. Forty hours."

A tenth of a second later—Johny's eyes flew open. He kicked and flailed wildly, screaming, "I surrender! I surrender! Don't throw me!" Lippo's announcement rang out. "The third match has ended. The examinees win. The score is two to one."

Leorio set him back on the ground. "You finally gave yourself away."

Result: Leroute won back forty hours. The stakes were now eighty hours for Leroute and twenty hours for Leorio.

Leroute swept her long hair behind her shoulder. "Third question—bet on whether I'm a man or a woman. I wager eighty hours."

Leorio's eyes lit up as he looked Leroute up and down, taking in her loose robe and gender-neutral voice. "I bet you're a man! Ten hours! Even if I lose, I can check personally afterward, so it's not a loss!"

Leroute smiled faintly, undid the collar of her robe, and revealed her fair neck and collarbones. "Unfortunately, you lost. I'm a woman."

Leorio was instantly overjoyed and rushed forward, leaning in repeatedly for a closer look. Result: Leorio lost ten hours. Stakes: Leroute ninety hours, Leorio ten hours.

Leorio's mind went blank. Leroute tilted her head. "Now it's your turn to ask a question." Leorio blurted out, "Then let's play rock-paper-scissors!"

A barely noticeable smile touched Leroute's lips. "Sure. I wager eighty hours that I win. Also, I can read your mind—you'll throw rock."

Leorio panicked. He clenched his fist, then loosened it, repeating the motion several times. The three-second countdown ended—rock. Leroute threw paper. Leorio looked down at his right hand, still clenched into a fist, and seemed completely hollowed out.

Lippo's cold broadcast sounded. "The wager has ended. The examinees have lost a total of fifty hours of exam time. Remaining exam time: nine hours and forty-five minutes."

Leorio collapsed onto the ground, clutching his head and shouting in despair, "It's all my fault! I'm so stupid! Why did I gamble with her?! There are less than ten hours left now!" Gon crouched down and patted his shoulder to comfort him, while Kurapika sighed.

Killua walked coldly toward the middle of the arena with both hands in his pockets, looking up toward the prisoners' shadows. "Fourth match. I'll do it. Let's end this quickly."

In the ground-floor hall, the flying beast was done roasting. Saitama tore off one leg and handed it to the examiner. The examiner froze for a moment, then accepted it and took a bite. Saitama tore off a wing, walked to the other side of the hall, and held it out to Hisoka.

"Here. Smells better than a supermarket chicken leg."

Hisoka looked down at the golden-brown roasted wing, then at Saitama's cumin-dusted fingers. He accepted the wing but did not eat it, merely holding it in his hand.

Saitama turned and returned to his chair, sitting cross-legged as he focused on gnawing another wing. A muffled sound faintly echoed from within the tower, followed by Lippo's broadcast. It seemed the fifth match had ended. He glanced at the timer and continued eating. Gon and the others would be out soon. Once he finished this wing, it would be about time to clean up the bones on the floor—the examiner might take them away later. He had to remember to take the free seasoning bottles with him. Hisoka was still leaning against the wall, staring at the wing in his hand, motionless amid the shifting light and shadow of his playing cards.

The aroma of roasted flying beast meat mixed with the charred scent of cumin, drifting into every corner of the ground-floor hall. The examiner lowered his head and looked at the flying beast leg with one bite taken out of it, then at Saitama's registration form on the desk. Beneath the latest note, he added a line: This examinee possesses some cooking skills. He shared homemade roasted meat with another examinee and a staff member in the examination hall.