The Wager and the Flying Beast

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

Saitama folded up the wrapper from his ninth sausage, stuffed it into his pocket, then stood and stretched lazily. He walked over to the waist-high hole in the wall and bent down to look outside. The sky had grown another shade darker. The three craters from earlier were still visible in the gravel outside the tower. A Six-Legged Flying Beast swept out from the tower's shadow, circled halfway around, then darted back inside.

"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 gum-like love thing of yours, 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 cards in Hisoka's hand stopped. His pupils contracted slightly, and his 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. The last time they had met was in Visca Swamp. Back then, 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 about his ability, unless he had seen through him long before then.

"How did you know that name?" Hisoka's voice was soft, completely devoid of amusement.

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

Hisoka stared at him for several seconds. This bald man spoke differently from everyone else—not as a provocation, not as a test, not as a display of information. He was simply stating a fact. Hisoka drew a card from his pocket, his thumb slowly brushing across its edge. "Finding fresh prey in an environment like this is far more interesting than the chilled stuff from a supermarket." His voice dragged out as his eyes narrowed. "But you need to tell me how you got here before I did. You were sitting here eleven hours ago."

"I jumped straight down."

Hisoka rose to his feet and walked to the hole. "From the top of the tower?"

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

Silence hung between them for several seconds.

Hisoka said nothing more. He drew a playing card from his pocket as pink Nen spilled from his fingertips, coating the card in a thick, sticky layer. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying through the hole in a curved arc, slicing precisely into the Six-Legged Flying Beast's left wing. A thread of Nen stretched taut between the card and his fingertips. The beast thrashed violently and shrieked without end. Hisoka pulled back with his palm, dragging the beast bit by bit toward the hole. Just as it was about to be pulled inside, Saitama raised a hand and lightly tapped it on the head. The bird's head drooped, motionless.

"Now we can roast it." Saitama grabbed one of the beast's legs with one hand and carried it to the examiner's desk. "Got any salt and cumin?" The examiner took out two bottles of seasoning from a drawer and placed them on the table. Saitama picked them up and examined the labels. "Free?" The examiner nodded. Saitama stuffed the bottles into his pocket, carried the beast to the center 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 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 platform, after Kurapika knocked Zha Hu unconscious with a punch, Zha Hu lay motionless on the ground, deliberately playing dead to stall for time. Leorio stared at the countdown ticking away 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! There's no point dragging this out. Which one of you is in charge?"

From the shadows across from him, Leroute stepped out of the darkness. Tall and slender, with long hair trailing to her waist, she wore a faint, elusive smile. "I'm Leroute. One hundred and twelve years left on my sentence. Smuggling endangered species and illegal gambling." Her voice was androgynous, her tone light. "You want to fight me? I can't beat you. How about a wager instead—fifty hours of your exam time as the stakes."

"A wager?"

"Both sides take turns asking questions. If you guess right, you win your opponent's stake. If you guess wrong, you lose your own. The minimum wager is ten hours. One side loses when all their time is gone." She paused. "If the examinees win the wager in the end, I'll make Zha Hu surrender immediately, and the match will be over."

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

Leroute pointed at Zha Hu, who was lying on the ground. "First question—bet on whether the person lying there is dead or alive."

"I bet he's alive! Ten hours!" Leorio hurried onto the platform, lifted Zha Hu's eyelids, and felt his carotid artery. His breathing remained steady, and his pulse was normal. "Alive. I win this round."

Leroute smiled and nodded. "Correct. 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 wager twenty hours that he really is unconscious."

Leorio crouched beside Zha Hu and spoke in a voice neither loud nor soft. "I'll count to three. If you don't wake up, I'll throw you off this platform. One. Two. Three." He suddenly seized Zha Hu by the collar, lifted his entire body off the ground, and strode toward the platform's edge. Just seconds before he let go, Leroute suddenly said, "I change my bet. He isn't really unconscious. Forty hours."

A tenth of a second later—Zha Hu's eyes flew open. He flailed wildly and screamed, "I surrender! I surrender! Don't throw me!" Lippo's broadcast rang out. "The third match is over. The examinees win. The score is two to one."

Leorio set him back down. "You finally gave yourself away."

Result: Leroute won back forty hours. Their chips now stood at 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 androgynous voice. "I bet you're a man! Ten hours! Even if I lose, I can personally check and confirm it, so I won't be losing out!"

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

Leorio was instantly overjoyed, rushing forward to lean in and inspect her repeatedly. Result: Leorio lost ten hours. Their chips: 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!"

An imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of Leroute's lips. "Sure. I wager eighty hours that I'll 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 lowered his head to look at his right hand, still clenched into a fist, and seemed completely hollowed out.

Lippo's cold broadcast sounded. "The wager is over. 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 as he screamed in despair. "It's all my fault! I'm too stupid! Why did I bet with her?! There are less than ten hours left now!" Gon crouched down and patted his shoulder in comfort, while Kurapika sighed.

With both hands in his pockets, Killua walked coldly toward the center of the platform and looked up at the prisoners' shadows. "Fourth match, me. Let's end this quickly."

In the lower hall, the flying beast was done roasting. Saitama tore off a 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 supermarket chicken legs."

Hisoka lowered his head to look at the golden-brown roasted wing, then at Saitama's fingers dusted with cumin. He took the wing but did not eat it, merely holding it in his hand.

Saitama turned and walked back to his chair, sat down cross-legged, and focused on gnawing another wing. A muffled bang echoed faintly through the tower, followed by Lippo's broadcast. It sounded like the fifth match had ended. He glanced at the timer and continued eating. Gon and the others would be out soon. Once he finished the wing, it would be about time to clean up all these bones on the floor—though the examiner might take them away later. He needed to remember to bring the free seasoning bottles with him. Hisoka was still against the wall, staring at the wing in his hand, his entire body motionless amid the shifting light and shadow of the playing cards.

The aroma of roasted flying beast meat and the charred fragrance of cumin blended together, drifting through every corner of the lower hall. The examiner looked down at the bitten flying beast leg in his hand, then at Saitama's registration form on the desk. Beneath the latest remark, he added another line: This examinee possesses some cooking skills. He has shared homemade roasted meat with another examinee and one staff member in the examination area.