The entire Spirit Essence Grassland was so quiet they could hear their own heartbeats.
Kurapika stood on one side of the Essence Grass, and the Black-Robed Masked Man stood on the other.
They faced each other across the waist-high plant, standing straight, their postures identical.
No signal. No countdown.
They did not even exchange another glance.
Their breathing synchronized first.
In—
Out—
The two breaths gradually merged into a single rhythm, as soft as wind brushing over leaves.
Then came their heartbeats.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Steady and strong, the two hearts slowly fell into step across the plant, as if beating to the same drum.
In that moment, the resonance in their blood flared to life.
Kurapika could clearly feel it: the man across from him had an aura identical to his own, like a reflection in a mirror.
It was a shared origin etched into their bones and blood, a mark passed down through generations of the Kurta Clan.
They raised their hands at the same time.
Their movements matched perfectly, mirrored down to the angle and even the curve of their fingertips.
Like two drops of water falling into the same lake.
Their fingertips touched the Essence Grass's two outermost leaves at the same instant.
Not the slightest deviation.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The grass did not wither.
The green leaves glowed softly, and the golden fruit at its center remained crystal clear, without a trace of black.
They applied pressure together.
The leaves peeled away in perfect sync. One, two, three. Their rhythm never faltered.
The entire Essence Grass came free, intact.
Its condition was flawless, its energy abundant. It was fresher and richer than any grass Gon and the others had harvested before.
The whole grassland fell silent.
Gon, Killua, and Leorio, still sprawled