Glasses Island · The Hunt Begins

The drawing took place aboard the ship.

The twenty-four examinees gathered in the lounge. Masta pressed the remote, and a chart appeared on the screen—each number matched with a target. Gon found his row: No. 406 → No. 44. Hisoka. His grip on the fishing rod tightened. Killua glanced at his card and casually slipped it into his pocket. After reading his target, Kurapika tucked his card into an inner pocket. Leorio stared at the matching chart on the screen, his Adam's apple bobbing. No one spoke, but everyone silently repeated their target's number in their minds.

The airship landed on the southern shore of Glasses Island. Masta announced that they would disembark in batches, two minutes apart.

Gon stepped onto the beach.

The sea breeze carried the scent of soil and rotting leaves from the forest, mingling salt with decaying wood. Rather than immediately looking for a hiding place like the other examinees, he crouched at the edge of the beach to study the terrain—several rows of fresh footprints marked the sand. Most led into the woods, while two sets headed along the rocky shore toward the cliffs. The wind blew from north to south. If Hisoka was deep in the forest, his scent would be carried to the southern coast.

He slipped into the woods and climbed the tallest cedar to get his bearings. Looking down from the canopy, the whole island resembled a pair of glasses resting on the sea. Two connected lakes in the center reflected symmetrical patches of light beneath the noon sun. Bloodthirsty Butterflies drifted through the treetops, the red spots on their wings glinting in the sunlight—they were tracking something. He memorized the direction they were flying, then looked into the distance. Deep in the forest, a figure was taking a stroll.

Not yet, he told himself. Don't rely on brute force. Outsmart him.

Killua did not look at anyone after stepping onto the beach.

He had only glanced at the target number on his card—it was no one difficult to deal with. He did not think much of it. Relying on his assassin's instincts, he had mapped out all the nearby mountain routes within minutes of landing: the forest had three layers. The canopy was suited for movement and observation, the ground layer for hiding and ambushes, and there was a rocky beach near the cliffs that allowed a path around to the north side of the island at low tide.

He was in no hurry to find his target. He could take that person down whenever he wanted. Instead, he wandered around, secretly observing Gon, Kurapika, and the others. When he passed near the cliffs, he paused briefly—a hermit crab beneath the rocky shore was dragging its shell over the wet sand left behind by the receding tide. A fine crack ran from the opening of its shell to the tip of the spiral, as though something had pecked at it but failed to break through. He rubbed the crack with his fingertip, then straightened and continued onward.

The first thing Kurapika did after getting off the ship was seek out Leorio.

"Let's form an alliance." His voice was quiet, but every word was clear. "We protect each other's number tags. If either of us gets attacked, the other immediately provides support."

Leorio nodded frantically, sweat still beading on his forehead. The target he had drawn was not particularly strong, but neither was he compared to these people. If he ran into monsters like Killua or Hisoka, he would not even be able to escape. The two entered the deep forest and found a concealed corner—a natural stone wall lay to the north, dense shrubs blocked the south, and only a narrow path led in or out. Kurapika quickly set up several vine tripwires as warnings, while Leorio kept watch for anyone approaching.

Hisoka deliberately released a powerful killing intent after coming ashore.

Several examinees searching for hiding places immediately quickened their pace. One even tripped over a tree root and fell, then scrambled up and kept running. He was not in a hurry to find his target. Instead, he strolled lazily through the forest—watching people perform, watching who formed alliances, who hid, and who lay in ambush. A Bloodthirsty Butterfly landed on his shoulder, sucked at the bloodstains on his clothes that had not yet dried, then fluttered away.

His eyes immediately settled on Gon. That spiky-haired boy was watching him—not as prey, but as a target. Hisoka pinched the edge of his target card from his pocket, gave it a single glance, and put it away again. The corner of his mouth curled upward as he continued walking.

Illumi stepped onto the beach in the guise of Gittarackur.

Steel needles covered his entire body. His face was expressionless, his steps stiff and evenly paced. He spoke to no one and did not search for his target, merely trailing the crowd from afar the entire time. A needle tip flashed beneath the sunlight—pointed toward Killua's retreating back. He silently committed every examinee's strength, personality, and alliances to memory. As he passed the rocky beach, a hermit crab was emerging from its old shell, its newly changed spiral shell edged with the fresh luster of calcium, not yet fully worn smooth by seawater. He did not spare the crab another look, instead locking his gaze back onto Killua's direction.

Tonpa found Sommy immediately after arriving on the island.

The two hid behind some bushes and whispered for a long time. "Same old method." Tonpa patted Sommy's shoulder. "First, find out where he's hiding." Sommy nodded and released his monkeys. Several monkeys darted silently through the canopy, scattering in different directions and marking down each examinee's hiding place along the way. One of them crouched in the cedar where Gon was hiding for a long while, tilting its head as it watched the spiky-haired boy practice swinging his rod. Then it silently leaped back into the depths of the forest.

Geretta did not follow anyone.

After arriving on the island, he climbed into a cluster of tall trees and hid, completely disappearing among the branches and leaves. With his blowgun resting on his knees, he locked onto Gon's approximate location from afar. He would not show himself or make a sound, lying in wait for a chance to take down the spiky-haired boy later. A monkey passed beneath him, heading back toward Sommy's hiding place. Geretta did not look at it. He merely tilted his head as he watched Gon's back, as if waiting for a show that had yet to begin.

Hanzo turned invisible the moment he arrived on the island.

Once his ninja skills came into play, his entire body vanished into the shadows of the canopy. He did not reveal himself or meet with anyone, focusing solely on Sommy's movements from the shadows. Crouching in the branches of a podocarpus tree, he watched Sommy release several monkeys and memorized the route each one took when returning. Then he found a pellet of monkey feed Sommy had dropped in his ninja tool pouch and spun it between his fingers.

Pokkle had drawn Killua as his target and felt particularly confident about himself.

On the first day, he ran all over the forest looking for Killua, determined to confront him head-on and snatch his number tag. He ran from the beach to the lakes, from the lakes to the cliffs. He did not find Killua, but he stepped on at least several snakes and several nests of poisonous insects along the way, his pant legs covered in mud and thorn seeds. When he finally circled near Kurapika's base, he deliberately kicked a dead branch in half. Kurapika raised his head from behind the rock wall and watched Pokkle's back disappear into the bushes.

Bodoro had not even walked fifty meters after stepping onto the beach when he saw the steel needles on Illumi's back gleaming under the sun.

He immediately turned around and headed in the opposite direction, his pace growing faster and faster until he slipped into the most remote corner—the cluster of sea caves behind the cliffs, eroded by ocean winds year after year. Stalactites hung from the cave ceiling, the walls were damp, and dried seaweed covered the ground. He curled up in the innermost hollow, which was only half a person's height, shoved his number tag into the deepest layer of his clothes, and pressed his knees to his chest. He did not dare look for anyone or fight anyone. All he wanted was to endure the seven days.

At dusk, Killua passed behind the cliffs and saw that figure curled up in the hollow by the cave entrance, knees pressed to his chest. He did not go inside. He merely paused for a beat, then looked away.

The sun sank beneath the horizon.

The first day on Glasses Island came to an end. Deep in the forest, the red spots on Bloodthirsty Butterfly wings occasionally flashed. Not a single person fought, and not one number tag was stolen. Everyone was doing the same thing—waiting.

On an island near Glasses Island, Netero stood barefoot on the ground and assumed a fighting stance. His right foot withdrew half a step, his center of gravity sank, and his left hand opened slightly before his chest. The sea wind made the sleeves of his robe snap and flutter.

Saitama stood opposite him. His feet were together, his arms hanging at his sides. The hem of his yellow T-shirt lifted in the wind, then fell back down. There was no expression on his face.

Waves crashed against the reefs. The sound of the tide was compressed into an extremely thin layer of background noise.

The air instantly froze.

Netero's gaze fixed on the bald man before him, his pupils slowly narrowing—just as they had when Saitama had approached alone from behind the reef. The sounds around him had suddenly vanished. The wind, the tide, the sunset, the Bloodthirsty Butterflies—everything faded from his senses, leaving only those expressionless eyes across from him.