The Threshold of Willpower

The running continued.

The grassland finally began to rise gradually. The ground was no longer soft, but it became even more strenuous. With every step, gravity seemed to press down on their knees. It was not the slippery drag of mud, but the dull ache of hard ground, inch by inch wearing away their strength.

The distance between the examinees gradually widened.

Some ran slower and slower. Some simply stopped to catch their breath, ran a few more steps, then stopped again. Sweat mixed with the hot wind, steaming into a suffocating pressure in the air.

Somewhere in the middle of the pack, someone suddenly collapsed onto the ground.

"Ha... ha... I can't do it... My leg cramped... I'm not faking it, I really..."

No one answered him.

Everyone was nearly unable to run anymore. Who still had the strength to help someone else?

He tried to stand, but the moment his leg trembled, he dropped to his knees again. He clutched his knee in agony, his gaze beginning to drift, as though he would give up at any moment.

Not far from him, another figure was gradually losing her rhythm as well.

It was Ponzu.

The girl who, during the previous illusion trial, had stood back up because of Ryan's words: "You haven't reached the finish line yet."

This time, she had once again reached the brink of her limit.

Her head hung low, her breathing was ragged, her face had turned bluish, and her lips were nearly bloodless. Her stride had begun to limp, every step seeming as if she were dragging herself forward.

Can I... really keep going...?

The question surfaced in her heart, but there was no answer.

The people around her ran in silence as well. No one spoke. No one said a word to her.

Ryan saw this from the rear flank. He did not approach, remaining in the complete concealment of Zetsu, giving off no unnecessary aura or sound.

But he remembered her.

He also knew that if he left her alone now, Ponzu might not make it through the final two hundred meters.

And those two hundred meters were Folding Before the Finish Line.

He shifted lightly to the side, circling to Ponzu's rear-left diagonal. He adjusted his pace so that every step landed more clearly than those around him, its rhythm steadier.

It was a special kind of rhythm—

Not a reminder, but something that made whoever heard it instinctively imitate it.

Ponzu heard it.

She suddenly raised her head, as though she had grasped something certain. The chaotic footsteps ringing in her ears were abruptly overshadowed by that steady, grounded rhythm.

Instinctively, she tried to match it.

One, two, three—

Her steps were forcibly brought into line. Her breathing remained ragged, but her body barely began to find its rhythm again.

Ryan said nothing and did not look back.

But as they passed one another, his gaze briefly swept over Ponzu.

There was no expression in that glance, not even emotion.

Yet it seemed to tell her—

You haven't fallen yet, have you?

Ponzu gritted her teeth, her eyes burning. She remembered those words from the first illusion, remembered the person who had not called her name in her darkest moment, yet had left her a direction.

She hesitated no longer, nor did she hesitate over whether she could finish the run.

She simply kept running.

Even if every step hurt, she knew—

As long as someone was walking ahead of her, she still had the strength to follow.

And Ryan had once again vanished beyond the crowd.

Neither ahead nor behind.

He was simply hidden in the wind, leaving an invisible mark upon these people's Willpower Threshold.

Ponzu's steps fell into disarray again.

She tried to focus on listening for that rhythm, only to discover that the footsteps she heard had already blended into the noise around her.

Some footsteps were quick, some heavy, some stumbling. Some people had even begun to walk. Her mind felt as though it were submerged in water, and something seemed to cling to her feet, dragging every step down with dull exhaustion.

She gritted her teeth and took another step, only to discover that her shoelace had come undone.

In that instant, it felt as though something had suddenly been drained from her body.

Why... does even something this small have to go wrong?

The thought flashed through her mind, followed by even heavier panting. She had neither the time nor the strength to bend down. She could only keep running, but her foot kept slipping loose and tightening again, completely throwing off her pace.

Am I really that bad?

Am I simply never going to reach the finish line...?

Am I the only one like this...?

Thought after thought surfaced in her mind like bubbles. Nothing told her to stop, but nothing pulled her forward either.

Just then, she heard those footsteps again.

That rhythm was still clear—not especially fast, but especially steady.

It was the same person.

Not in front of her, nor beside her, but approaching smoothly from her rear-left before quietly passing her and running toward the road ahead, already slightly pressed down by the wind sweeping through the grass.

That person did not stop or speak.

But this time, Ponzu did not hesitate.

She instinctively adjusted her steps—just as before, imitating that rhythm.

Her right foot landed firmly, her left pushed off. Right again, then left. Inhale again, exhale again. Right, left...

She suddenly realized that her body had awakened a little.

Her breathing was still heavy, but it did not hurt as much. Her vision was still blurry, but there were fewer afterimages. The strength in her legs had not returned, but at least—she could still run.

That person did not look back, maintaining his rhythm as he skimmed past the side of the main path and once again disappeared at the edge of the crowd.

Watching his retreating figure grow farther away, Ponzu suddenly whispered, "Thank you."

Though she knew he could not hear her, and perhaps did not care at all, she said it anyway.

This time, she did not stop again.

-

Meanwhile, behind the observation platform in the northern section of the trial grounds, an observer wearing a headset frowned at the thermal trail on the screen.

"Number 246... Ponzu's condition has recovered. The abnormal fluctuations have disappeared."

"...What triggered it?"

No one answered.

Because just as the observer was about to pull up the relevant footage, the live data from another marker suddenly flashed.

"Number 199, Ryan."

"He approached her again, but there were still no Nen aura fluctuations."

"What do you make of it?"

Netero, seated in the last row, set down his teacup and said lazily:

"Some people can influence an examination hall without using aura."

-

The mist had almost completely dispersed.

A bright outline appeared at the end of the track. It did not look like a finish line, but rather like some threshold where space changed.

The running continued.

Ponzu no longer searched blindly for direction. She only stared at that point of light and ran. She did not know what she would gain after finishing, nor did she know whether that person would appear again.

But she knew that as long as she remembered the rhythm of those footsteps, she would not fall.

Twenty meters ahead of her, Ryan once again merged into the wind, leaving behind no trace of sound.

His pace did not change, nor did his gaze waver.

Zetsu continued.

He did not release a thread of Nen aura, did not speak to anyone, and did not perform a single "heroic act."

But in the heart of someone about to collapse, he left behind a rhythm.

It was a signal deeper than words.

It told you—you could still keep going.