Kukuroo Mountain: A Tourist Attraction

Central Station, Republic of Padokea.

A bus marked "Kukuroo Mountain Tours" stood by the platform. Its body was painted dark green, with a cartoon volcano on the side and a slogan: "The World's Greatest Tourist Attraction: The Zoldyck Family Welcomes You." A tour guide stood by the door holding a little flag and handing out brochures showing the Zoldyck estate. The cover featured a photograph of the Yellow Springs Gate, with "Trial Gate: Seven Heavy Doors" written beneath it in ornate lettering.

Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio boarded. Gon's arm was still bandaged, but the wound had stopped bleeding. Leorio kept his Hunter License in an inside breast pocket and reached up to check it every few minutes. Kurapika took a window seat, opened the Zoldyck brochure, and studied it page by page from the beginning.

Saitama came last, his hands in his pockets and his T-shirt still smelling of sesame sauce from the hotpot.

Netero walked beside him, wearing his T-shirt with the character for "heart" on it and carrying a cup of tea he had bought at the station. "I've lived all these years, and this is my first time taking a tour bus to the Zoldyck house. They always used to send someone to pick me up. Made quite a production of it, too."

"Aren't they assassins? Why run tours?" Saitama asked as he sat beside him.

"Assassination is the main business. Tourism is a sideline. I hear the ticket sales aren't bad." Netero stroked his beard. "No one dares mess with them anyway, so they don't mind making their address public. 'The World's Greatest Tourist Attraction'—Silva came up with that slogan himself."

The guide raised her microphone and began describing the scenery outside in a sweet voice. "To your right is the Forest Sea of Kukuroo Mountain, private property of the Zoldyck Family. Please do not attempt to climb the fence. Mike patrols the grounds beyond it. Mike is a massive, multiheaded demon hound capable of swallowing an adult whole." The tourists gasped nervously and raised their phones to take pictures. Still smiling, the guide moved on to the next stop: the Trial Gate observation deck. They would have twenty minutes there, and admission was included in the bus fare.

Gon kept staring out the window. Deep in the Forest Sea, several enormous paws moved slowly beneath the treetops.

Saitama yawned.

The bus stopped at the viewing platform outside the Zoldyck Family's front entrance.

The tourists poured out to take pictures. The guide stood before the Trial Gate with her flag raised and began reciting the history of the Yellow Springs Gate in a practiced voice. Its seven doors represented seven trials. Each required greater strength to push open, and to date, only Zoldyck Family members had opened the third door or beyond. She pointed to an unremarkable little door nearby. "That side entrance is for intruders. Mike waits behind it. I advise you not to try it."

Gon stood before the gate and looked up at its seven enormous doors. A relief of a coiled dragon wound from the lintel down to the base. Each door had bronze dragon eyes that glinted dark gold in the sunlight. This was what stood between him and Killua.

"I'll push it," he said.

Kurapika and Leorio stepped up beside him. All three took a deep breath and pressed their hands against the first door. Gon gritted his teeth. The muscles in his bandaged arm tightened, and fresh blood seeped from his wound. Leorio shouted, and the three of them pushed together. The door slowly swung open with a deep rumble. Dust shook loose from the carved grooves, and the bottom of the door dragged a deep furrow through the gravel. The first door was open. All three were panting, their arms trembling, but they had opened it.

A middle-aged man in gray work clothes emerged from the guardhouse and adjusted his cap. Gotoh was the cleaner responsible for disposing of intruders' bodies. He sized up the three young men, his gaze lingering on Gon's bloodstained bandage. His voice was cool and appraising. "You're awfully young. Here to see Master Killua too? There's no key. You have to push the gate open yourselves. Last time Master Killua came home, he opened the fifth door on his own. The three of you managed the first together. That takes some strength, but that's as far as it goes."

"I want to keep pushing," Gon said.

"Ohoho! Let me have a try too." Netero stroked his beard and handed his teacup to the guide. She took it instinctively and was about to resume her explanation of the Yellow Springs Gate's history when she recognized the old man. She froze. Her little flag slipped from her fingers, and she stumbled back two steps before steadying herself. Gotoh opened his mouth, then swallowed whatever he had been about to say.

Netero did not approach the first door. He crossed the shadows cast by all seven and stopped at the innermost one: the seventh door. The dragon carved into it spiraled upward from its base, its eyes gleaming dark gold in the shade. He raised his right hand. It was thin and wrinkled, and moments ago it had been holding a cup of hot tea. He placed it against the door.

The seventh door burst open beneath his palm. Then came the sixth, the fifth, the fourth—one after another, all seven doors opened. The carved dragons gave off a deep resonance as the gate shook. Stone dust that had gathered on the lintel for untold years came raining down. A gust swept up the gravel and shattered a loose tile on the viewing platform. Every tourist hit the shutter button, flashes going off in a wave before the Yellow Springs Gate. The guide bent to retrieve her fallen flag. When she straightened, Netero was taking his tea back from her.

"A tour bus has its charms after all. The trip was worth it." Netero sipped his tea.

Saitama kept his hands in his pockets. After hotpot and two airship rides, the old man still has the energy for this. He kept it to himself.

The moment the Yellow Springs Gate stood fully open, all of Kukuroo Mountain trembled.

Alarms lit up the monitors in the butlers' quarters. Inside the main residence, Milluki was eating potato chips at the surveillance console when the screens suddenly filled with red alerts. All seven doors open. Visitor: Isaac Netero, chairman of the Hunter Association and master of Shingen-Ryu. He choked on a chip and thumped his chest, spraying crumbs across the keyboard.

Silva emerged from his study. Zeno set down his teacup in the tearoom. Even Kikyo's electronic eye stopped blinking. In a room at the far end of the corridor, Maha slowly opened his eyes. A nearly imperceptible trace of Nen swept through the main residence before he closed them again.

Wutong personally led the welcoming party, with two rows of black-uniformed attendants behind him. His steps remained precise, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Gotoh had already cleaned up the guardhouse and was concealing the traces of intruders' corpses as quickly as he could.

Wutong stopped before Netero and bowed formally. "Chairman Netero, we are honored by your visit. May I ask what brings you here?" His voice was steady, but a fine sheen of sweat covered his brow.

"I'm just accompanying a few youngsters on a sightseeing trip." Netero stroked his beard. "And stopping by to see an old friend's grandson. Is Silva home?"

"The master is waiting in the main hall. Please follow me."

Silva greeted them at the entrance in person. His tone was respectful, though edged with caution. "It's been years, Chairman. You're as fit as ever. You opened all seven doors at once. The whole mountain shook."

"Ohoho! I'm getting old. Opening the gate never used to break any tiles."

Silva's gaze shifted past Netero. Three young men stood outside: one with a bandaged arm, one silent and blond, and one in sunglasses muttering, "What does seven doors even mean?" His gaze passed over them and settled on the figure at the back of the group. A bald man in a yellow T-shirt stood with his hands in his pockets, yawning. Without showing any reaction, Silva swept a faint, swift Nen Pressure over Saitama. No Nen. No threatening presence. Just an ordinary, easygoing passerby. He looked away.

"And this is?"

"Saitama. A friend of mine," Netero said. "Don't mind him. He's here to sightsee."

Saitama pulled a roasted ear of corn he had bought at the station convenience store from his pocket, peeled back the wrapper, and took a bite. The Zoldyck entrance hall was roomier than he had expected. The ceiling stood at least ten meters high, and an enormous dragon relief hung on the wall, identical to the one on the Yellow Springs Gate. He silently estimated the hall's floor area. My entire living room would fit in here, along with the kitchen and bathroom.

Silva looked away. "Please, come in."

Wutong took Gon and the others to the training grounds. Silva had said they would have to pass the family trial before seeing Killua, starting with a run through the Forest Sea in weighted vests. Wutong set three hundred-kilogram vests before them. Leorio protested, "We came to find someone, not work out," but after Wutong stared at him expressionlessly for a few seconds, he silently picked one up. Gon was already putting his on.

Netero was invited into the main hall. Silva served the tea himself, and Zeno came out of the tearoom to sit across from Netero. The two centenarians exchanged pleasantries, their conversation ranging from the borders of the Dark Continent to the lingering sweetness of this year's new tea. Maha never emerged from the depths of the corridor, but his Nen Pressure faintly covered the entire main residence like a thin, silent spiderweb.

Saitama did not enter the main hall. Holding his half-eaten roasted corn, he leaned beneath the dragon relief in the entrance hall and stared blankly at the ceiling. Outside came the sound of Gon running along the gravel path in a hundred-kilogram vest, along with Leorio's breathless cursing. Zoldyck butlers occasionally passed through the corridor and paused at the sight of the bald man. No one knew why he was standing there, and no one dared ask. On his third pass, Wutong finally stopped. His tone was respectful but firm, as befitted a butler. "Sir, please put your rubbish somewhere else." Saitama glanced at the corncob he had placed on the umbrella stand. "Oh." He picked it up and stuffed it back into his pocket. Wutong looked at the bulging pocket, a vein twitching on his forehead. He said nothing and walked away.