The electronic screen displayed the second match: Kurapika vs. Hisoka.
Kurapika took off his coat, folded it, and placed it on a chair before stepping into the ring. Hisoka rose from the back of the hall, turning a playing card between his fingers. His golden pupils narrowed slightly under the lights, and a faint smile curved his lips. He noticed Kurapika's eyes. They were nothing like Gon's. Gon had a goal in his eyes; this blond boy held everything back. To Hisoka, restraint was more interesting to watch than fear.
They faced each other at the center of the ring. Kurapika moved first. His right fist shot straight at Hisoka's face, fast enough to make Hanzo raise an eyebrow. Hisoka tilted his head aside. Kurapika pivoted with the motion, striking back with his left elbow and sweeping his right leg low. Hisoka hopped back and landed, barely touching the mat with his toes before Kurapika's next straight punch reached him. They traded moves at high speed in the center of the ring. Fists missed, legs swept through empty air, and elbows skimmed past clothing. Only the scrape of shifting feet sounded against the mat. After several exchanges, neither was hurt, though both were breathing a little harder.
Hisoka suddenly closed in. Kurapika instinctively retreated, but Hisoka's hand was already on his shoulder, holding him in place. Hisoka's face, painted with a star and a teardrop, stopped mere centimeters from his. Tilting his head, Hisoka slowly swept his golden gaze along Kurapika's tense jaw, then leaned close to his ear and murmured a few words about the Phantom Troupe.
The hall fell silent for several seconds. Kurapika's hand at his side clenched and loosened, then clenched and loosened again. Hisoka stepped back and raised a hand. "I surrender."
The hall erupted. Leorio sprang from his chair. "He surrendered again?! Does he do that with everyone?"
Kurapika did not fall to his knees. He stood perfectly straight, but his fists were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. He had not qualified by winning. He had traded for it with information from a Spider. When he stepped down from the ring, he did not return to his seat. He stood in the shadow of a pillar with his back to everyone.
Netero stroked his beard and turned to Saitama. "What did Hisoka say?"
"Information about the Phantom Troupe. I forget the details," Saitama said. "The author sure knows how to leave people hanging."
Netero did not understand what Saitama meant by "the author," but he was used to the strange phrases Saitama occasionally let slip. He took it as some insight beyond his own understanding and slowly nodded.
The electronic screen displayed the third match: Hanzo vs. Pokkle.
Hanzo pressed his palms together in a ninja greeting and darted into the ring. Pokkle entered from the other side, still gripping his bow and arrows. In a hand-to-hand match, they were almost useless. Hanzo struck so fast that Pokkle was thrown onto the mat before he could even see the move. He got up and was thrown again. The third time Hanzo pinned him, Pokkle felt the cold edge of a kunai against his throat and shouted with all his strength, "I surrender!" Hanzo put away his blade and darted out of the ring. There had been no suspense. The gap in strength was plain to see; Pokkle could not hold out, and Hanzo saw no reason to waste effort.
Netero turned to Saitama. "You didn't make a prediction this time."
"No need. He's not like Gon," Saitama said. Netero nodded slowly. He thought Saitama meant Pokkle lacked Gon's will to fight. In fact, Saitama had simply seen this episode and knew Pokkle would lose quickly. The misunderstanding deepened Netero's admiration for him yet again.
The electronic screen displayed the fourth match: Hisoka vs. Bodoro.
Bodoro stepped into the ring with a steady gait. He was the oldest martial artist among the candidates, with graying hair and fists covered in calluses. Hisoka did not use his playing cards. He slipped past Bodoro's Straight Punch Thrust, sidestepped a spinning kick, and drove an elbow into his back. Bodoro stumbled two steps, steadied himself, and took his stance again. Hisoka landed several rapid punches to his stomach and shoulders. Bodoro dropped to one knee, panting, but gritted his teeth, ready to refuse to surrender just as Gon had. Then Hisoka leaned close to his ear and whispered something. Bodoro's expression shifted from resolve to shock, then from shock to silence. He lowered his head. "I surrender."
Netero turned to Saitama. "What did he say this time?"
"I really don't remember. Who remembers a bit player like him?" Saitama said. Netero fell silent for a moment. He thought Saitama meant an opponent of Bodoro's caliber was not worth remembering. In fact, Saitama simply could not remember a character who disappeared less than a few chapters after his introduction.
Heh! You miscalculated this time, Togashi, you old hack!
The electronic screen displayed the fifth match: Killua vs. Pokkle.
Pokkle had only just reached the center of the ring when Killua raised a hand. "I surrender. I don't want to fight someone with no ability." Pokkle froze, nearly dropping his bow and arrows. This was the third match in a row that had put him in the center of the ring, and not one had ended with a normal fight. Killua jumped down from the edge of the ring, leaned back in his seat, and put his hands in his pockets.
Netero announced the next match: Bodoro vs. Leorio. Leorio stood, glanced at Bodoro resting with his eyes closed in the corner, and raised a hand to Netero. "Hisoka just injured Bodoro. Let's postpone our match." Netero agreed.
The electronic screen kept scrolling, then displayed the next match: Killua vs. Illumi.
Killua looked up. On the other side of the ring, Illumi walked in with stiff, mechanical steps and stopped at its center. The noise in the hall suddenly died away. It was not silence so much as though something had gripped everyone by the throat. Illumi slowly raised a hand, his fingertips stopping at the first Nen Needle. Leorio stopped rubbing his wrist. Kurapika lifted his head from the shadow of the pillar. Pokkle forgot to chew his gum.
Killua rose from his seat. His breathing slowed until even he could no longer hear it. They stared at each other across the ring, one pulling out a needle, the other watching.
Saitama stood beside Netero, his arms at his sides. He had seen this match. He knew what came next: an older brother's twisted love for his younger brother, a child utterly broken by the words of someone closest to him, and the moment that child would accidentally kill an innocent old man. Every part of the story was already set. He only stood there, waiting for it to happen.
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