Glasses Island · The Hunt Begins

The drawing of lots took place aboard the ship.

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

The airship landed on the southern shore of Glasses Island. Masta announced that they would go ashore in groups, with two minutes between each person.

Gon stepped onto the beach.

The sea wind carried the smell of dirt and rotting leaves from the jungle, mingling the scents of salt and decaying wood. Unlike the other examinees, he did not first look for somewhere to hide. Instead, he crouched at the edge of the beach and studied the terrain. Several rows of fresh footprints marked the sand. Most led into the forest, while two rows followed the shingle beach toward the cliffs. The wind blew from north to south. If Hisoka was deep in the jungle, his scent would be carried to the southern shore.

He slipped into the woods and climbed the tallest cedar to get his bearings. Looking down from the canopy, the whole island looked like a pair of glasses resting on the sea. The two connected lakes in the center reflected symmetrical patches of light beneath the midday sun. Bloodthirsty Butterflies fluttered through the treetops, the red spots on their wings glittering in the sunlight—they were tracking something. He memorized the direction they were flying, then gazed into the distance that way. Deep in the jungle, a figure was strolling.

It's not time yet. He told himself. I won't win by brute force. I'll win through strategy.

Killua stepped onto the beach without looking at anyone.

He glanced at the target number on his card just once—it was no difficult opponent. He did not take it seriously. Relying on a killer's instincts, he mapped out all the routes through the nearby mountains and woods within minutes of coming ashore. The jungle had three levels: the canopy was suited for movement and observation, the ground for hiding and ambushes, and beyond the cliffs lay a shingle beach that could be used to circle around to the northern side of the island once the tide went out.

He did not hurry to find his prey. He could take that target whenever he wanted. Instead, he wandered around, secretly observing Gon and Kurapika's group. When he passed near the cliffs, he paused for a moment. Beneath the shingle beach, a hermit crab was dragging its shell across the wet sand left by the receding tide. A fine crack ran across the shell, extending from its opening to the apex, as though something had pecked it without breaking through. He ran a fingertip over the crack, then straightened and continued onward.

The first thing Kurapika did after disembarking was seek out Leorio.

"We're forming an alliance." His voice was not loud, but every word was clear. "We'll protect each other's number plates. If either of us is ambushed, the other will provide immediate support."

Leorio nodded frantically, sweat still beading on his forehead. The target he had drawn was of average strength, but he was not particularly strong compared with the others. If he ran into monsters like Killua or Hisoka, he would not even be able to escape. The two of them made their way into the deep woods and found a secluded corner. A natural stone wall stood to the north, while dense bushes blocked off the south, leaving only one narrow path in and out. Kurapika quickly set up several vine snares as early warnings, while Leorio kept watch for anyone approaching.

Hisoka deliberately released a powerful killing aura after coming ashore.

Several examinees who had been searching for places to hide immediately quickened their pace. One even tripped over a tree root and fell, then scrambled up and kept running. Hisoka did not hurry to find his prey. Instead, he strolled leisurely through the woods—watching people put on acts, watching to see who formed alliances, who was hiding, and who was setting ambushes. A Bloodthirsty Butterfly landed on his shoulder, took a sip of the blood that had not yet fully dried on his clothes, then beat its wings and flew away.

He spotted Gon at a glance. That spiky-haired boy was watching him—not as prey, but as a target. Hisoka drew his own prey card from the edge of his pocket and glanced at it once before putting it away again. The corners of his lips curled upward as he continued walking.

Illumi stepped onto the beach in the guise of Illumi.

His entire body was covered in steel needles. His face was expressionless, and his steps were stiff and evenly measured. He spoke to no one and did not search for his prey, merely following the crowd from a distance the entire time. A needle tip flashed in the sunlight, pointing toward Killua's retreating back. He silently recorded every examinee's strength, personality, and alliances in his mind. When he passed the shingle beach, a hermit crab was poking its newly grown spiral shell out from its old one. The shell's edge gleamed with fresh calcium and had not yet been completely worn smooth by the seawater. He did not look at the crab for long. His gaze soon locked back onto Killua's direction.

Tonpa found Sommy immediately after arriving on the island.

The two of them hid behind a thicket and whispered for a long time. "The old method." Tonpa patted Sommy on the shoulder. "First, we figure out where he's hiding." Sommy nodded and released his monkeys. Several monkeys darted silently through the canopy, scattering in different directions and memorizing the hiding places of every examinee along the way. One of them crouched atop the cedar where Gon was hiding and watched for a long time, tilting its head as the spiky-haired boy practiced swinging his rod. Then it silently leaped back into the depths of the jungle.

Geretta did not follow anyone.

After reaching the island, he climbed directly into a cluster of tall trees and concealed himself completely among the branches and leaves. He rested the blowpipe on his knee and kept watch on Gon's approximate location from afar. He did not show himself or make a sound. He lay in wait, preparing to find an opportunity to take the spiky-haired boy down later. A monkey passed beneath him, heading back toward Sommy's hiding place. Geretta did not look at it. He merely tilted his head and watched Gon's back, as though waiting for a good show that had yet to begin.

Hanzo vanished as soon as he reached the island.

The moment his ninja skills came into play, his entire body disappeared into the shadows of the canopy. He did not show himself or encounter anyone, focusing solely on secretly observing Sommy's movements. Crouched on the branch of a Buddhist pine, he watched Sommy release several monkeys and memorized the routes each one took back. Then he reached into his ninja tool pouch and found a hard pellet of monkey feed that Sommy had dropped, rolling it between his fingers.

Pokkle had drawn Killua as his target and felt exceptionally good about himself.

On the first day, he wandered wildly through the forest, searching everywhere for Killua, wholly intent on confronting him head-on and snatching his number plate. He ran from the beach to the lakes, then from the lakes to the cliffs. He did not find Killua, but along the way he stepped on several snakes and multiple nests of venomous insects. His trouser cuffs were covered in mud and burrs. When he finally circled around near Kurapika's base, he deliberately kicked through a dead branch. Kurapika raised his head from behind the rock wall and watched Pokkle's back disappear into the bushes.

Bodoro had walked less than fifty meters from the beach when he saw the steel needles on Illumi's back gleaming in the sunlight.

He immediately turned around and headed in the opposite direction, his steps growing faster and faster until he finally ducked into the most secluded corner—a cluster of sea caves on the far side of the cliffs, eroded by the sea wind over countless years. Stalactites hung from the cave ceilings, the walls were damp, and dry seaweed covered the ground. He curled up in the innermost hollow, which was barely half a person's height, shoved his number plate into the deepest layer of his clothing, and hugged his knees to his chest. He did not dare seek anyone out or fight. He only wanted to make it through seven days.

At dusk, Killua passed the far side of the cliffs and saw the figure curled up in the hollow at the mouth of a cave, knees pressed to his chest. He did not go inside. He merely paused for a beat, then looked away.

The setting sun sank beneath the horizon.

The first day on Glasses Island drew to a close. Red spots occasionally flashed across the wings of Bloodthirsty Butterflies deep in the jungle. Not a single person had fought, and not one number plate had been taken. Everyone was doing the same thing—waiting.

On an island near Glasses Island, Netero stood barefoot on the ground in a fighting stance. His right foot was half a step back, his center of gravity lowered, and his left hand hung open before his chest. The sea wind whipped the sleeve of his yukata.

Saitama stood opposite him. His feet were together, and both hands hung at his sides. The hem of his yellow T-shirt lifted in the wind before falling back into place. His face held no expression.

The waves pounded against the rocks. The sound of the tide had been compressed into an exceedingly thin layer of background noise.

The air froze in an instant.

Netero's gaze fixed on the bald man before him, his pupils slowly contracting—just as when he had approached alone from behind the rocks moments earlier and all the sounds around him had suddenly vanished. The wind, the tide, the evening glow, the Bloodthirsty Butterflies—everything had faded from his senses, leaving only those expressionless eyes across from him.