Hisoka didn't pursue. He stood relaxed, eyes narrowed in amusement as he looked at the battered boy.
"That black fist of yours..." Hisoka purred, his voice sliding like silk over a razor. "That wasn't Nen, was it?"
Gon froze. The question caught him off guard. "How did you know?"
"Heh..." Hisoka licked his lips, savoring the moment. "Pure Nen tastes like sweet, ripe fruit... but the black energy on your fist? That was spicy. A completely different flavor."
His gaze snapped toward the audience stands, locking instantly onto Kyle.
"And the only one capable of serving such an exotic dish... is our little Specialist friend up there."
Kyle felt goosebumps erupt across his skin. Being the target of Hisoka's obsession was like having a sniper laser pointed at his forehead.
"My interest..." Hisoka whispered to himself, his eyes glowing gold. "It's growing."
On the stage, Gon felt exposed. The sense that Hisoka saw through everything—his plans, his power, his secrets—ignited a flare of defiance.
I won't let it end like this!
He stepped forward to attack.
Thud.
Something hard slammed into the back of his head.
"Gah!" Gon stumbled, clutching his skull. A broken piece of the floor tile clattered to the ground behind him. It had flown in a perfect, unnatural arc, guided by an invisible elastic thread.
"Critical Hit! Ten points to Hisoka! Winner: Hisoka!"
Gon stared at the stone, realizing the truth. Hisoka had set this trap minutes ago, attaching his gum to debris during the chaos, just waiting for the moment Gon dropped his guard.
"You lost because you lack experience," Hisoka said, turning his back and waving casually. "If you had fought more real battles, you might have beaten me."
He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a chilling smile.
"Next time we fight, it won't be in a ring with rules."
Next time, we bet our lives.
Gon watched the Magician walk away. The gap was real. But for the first time, it didn't feel infinite.
Later. Heavens Arena Guest Room.
"Ouch! Hiss—!"
Gon winced as Killua slapped his bandaged shoulder.
"You're lucky," Killua said, shaking his head. "If Hisoka wasn't such a pervert for 'nurturing potential,' you would have ended up like Kastro. Dead and forgotten."
"Killua's right," Kyle agreed, his expression serious. "Until we are truly ready, Hisoka will wait. But the moment he decides we're 'ripe,' he won't hold back. It will be a death match."
"Why is he like that?" Gon asked, genuinely confused.
Kyle shrugged. "Everyone has their vice. For him, dancing on the edge of death with a strong opponent is the ultimate high."
Suddenly, the air in the room grew heavy.
A thick, sticky aura seeped through the cracks in the door. It was sweet, cloying, and terrifyingly familiar.
"Stay here."
Kyle stood up. His face was grim.
He walked to the door, took a deep breath, and stepped into the hallway. He followed the scent of bloodlust to a room down the corridor.
The door was ajar. Inside, in the dark, Hisoka lounged on a sofa, building a tower of playing cards.
"Heh heh heh..."
The laughter vibrated in Kyle's chest.
"That black power..." Hisoka whispered, not looking up as he placed the Ace of Spades on top of the tower. "I want to taste more of it."
Kyle didn't answer. He just watched, confirming that the beast was currently fed, before silently retreating.
Several Days Later. The Train to Whale Island.
Clack-clack. Clack-clack.
The rhythmic sound of the wheels on the tracks was hypnotic. Outside the window, the industrial landscape of the city was giving way to green fields and open sky.
Gon was animatedly telling stories about his childhood on Whale Island—fishing for the Master of the Swamp, getting chased by foxbears—while Killua and Kyle laughed.
They had said their goodbyes to Wing. While Wing was their official master, in truth, Kyle had been the one guiding their practical application of Nen and Haki.
"So," Killua asked, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "When do we go back to the other world?"
"Not yet," Kyle replied, looking at the map spread out on the table. "We need to prepare. Remember, we have a promise to keep with Kurapika and Leorio in Yorknew City."
"Besides," Kyle tapped the map. "If we're going to be a real pirate crew, we need structure. We need a flag. And we need a Navigator."
He pointed at Gon.
"Gon, you're it."
"Me?" Gon blinked.
"Your instincts for weather are supernatural," Kyle explained. "You can smell a storm before the clouds even form. That's a Navigator's most important talent. You'll need to study charts, but the talent is there."
"And a cook," Kyle continued. "I'm thinking of Menchi."
"The Gourmet Hunter from the Exam?" Killua made a face. "She's scary."
"She's obsessed with new flavors," Kyle grinned. "Imagine telling her there's a world with Sea Kings, Sky Islands, and ingredients that don't exist here. She'd beg to join."
"But most importantly," Kyle looked at both of them, his expression hardening. "We need 'Special Moves.' Hatsu."
"You have the basics. But to survive the New World, or to fight the Phantom Troupe, you need a signature ability."
Killua smirked, a spark of electricity dancing in his eyes. "I'm way ahead of you. I already have an idea."
"Really? What is it?" Gon leaned in, eyes sparkling.
"Se~cret~" Killua teased, putting a finger to his lips.
Gon pouted, turning to Kyle. "Kyle! What should I do? I can't think of anything!"
Kyle looked at Gon. He thought about the famous Jajanken. It was flawed—slow charge time, high risk—but it fit Gon perfectly. And later, when combined with Haki...
"Gon," Kyle said. "You're an Enhancer. Your strength is simplicity. Try to take everything you've learned—Ten, Ren, Zetsu, Gyo—and focus it all into one point."
"Focus everything... into one point?"
Gon closed his eyes. He stood up in the train aisle.
He took a stance.
"Ren!"
Aura exploded around him. The air in the train car instantly grew heavy. Passengers nearby gasped, clutching their chests as the pressure weighed on them.
Gon didn't notice. He focused every scrap of that energy into his right fist.
Ko.
The aura swirled, condensing, becoming brighter and brighter.
But just as it reached the peak—
Fwoosh.
The aura destabilized and scattered, dissipating into the air.
Gon slumped, panting. "It fell apart."
"That's expected," Kyle nodded approvingly. "That technique is the ultimate Enhancer attack. If you master that... one punch can rival a missile."
Kyle smiled, remembering a future where an older, desperate Gon would punch a Royal Guard into oblivion.
"Keep practicing. That punch will be your fang."