Kite didn't know what to make of Netero's message.

To Kite&Gon:

Will You fight?! Or not?!

We welcome you anytime!

Hadn't he said he was done, after all? What was this supposed to mean?

Gon had no such misgivings as he turned away from the notice board. "Alright, let's go!"

"Wait, Gon," Kite said, massaging his temples. "Things with the Chairman are never this simple."

"But it says, 'anytime'…"

"You still have to get accepted to the task force, first. And who knows what it'll take for that to happen," Kite added reproachfully. The Hunter Association had quarantined NGL from everyone but the Hunters selected to fight there, and Netero hadn't given them any actual authorization. Since all they had was this cryptic invitation on a public chalkboard, they would have to meet with someone already in the know. It was bullshit like this that kept him on the freelance side of the Hunter business—that, and he enjoyed not being tied down to the Association's whims. Corporate bureaucracy got on all of his nerves.

"But isn't the team already… in…" Gon trailed off as a cold shadow fell over the two. It was a startling phenomenon, especially since they were in a climate-controlled, windowless room.

And sooner than they could turn around, someone began to speak:

"When they said one of them would be Kite, I'd had my suspicions, but ultimately, I decided to reserve judgement. After all, there are many, many other people in the world who could have that name, and Knov-Sensei has told me I sometimes air on the presumptuous side of things. But now, I see my fears were not ungrounded, Kite."

"Oh, fuck," he cursed under his breath.

Palm Siberia twitched menacingly before them, just as… radiant as ever.

"I also see the Association has ignored my request that you and your awful teacher be detained. I suppose that explains why I never heard back from them—how cowardly, to stay silent just so they can avoid the consequences of refusing me. Unbelievable."

"You know Ging?" Gon naively spoke up. And there it was: the worst thing Gon could've latched onto in the last five sentences, at the worst time to bring it up. Kite wondered numbly at how shit had managed to escalate this far in under forty-five seconds.

Because Palm liked to ramble almost as much as she liked to ignore all eight hundred of her restraining orders. Her normal tangents could trample any conversation with ease, but that was nothing compared to how much she could spew when going on about something she hates. And as a rule, the longer she talks about something she hates, the closer she comes to a blood rage.

Storm clouds gathering, Palm cast her sights on the shorter boy. "Oh, and you must be Gon. Yes, I'm familiar with that scheming, filthy brute. He and this man have insulted Knov-Sensei and I on more than one occasion—two times, in fact. The Chairman is strangely fond of him, though, so he gets to run amok as he pleases. Just thinking about where he might be, right now, unpunished… I can't stand it."

Well, yes, Ging did call her a psychotic bitch, but all Kite had done was stand aside and wait for the waitress to bring out their drinks. Guilty by association, he supposed.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry about that," Gon apologized graciously. "Er, who are you?"

And that… shut her up for a second.

She blinked. Gon smiled. Kite swore to never underestimate the power of a good diversion.

"I am Palm Siberia, and I'm here to team up with you for the Chairman's challenge."

And that had Gon sparking up like a firework. "Challenge…?!"

"Myself, you two, and Morel's students will have a battle royale," she disclosed. "Whoever's still standing after thirty minutes can join the punitive force, and we're allowed to team up with one other person if we so choose, meaning that we're not obligated to fight against them. The match will happen when all contestants sign up on the board, here. But if we're still missing someone's name thirty days from now, we'll go ahead and fight without them."

Sure enough, off to the side of Netero's message read three signatures:

I'm Ready—KNUCKLE ⇘

I'm Ready—Shoot ⟹ TEAM

Ready—Palm

So that's what that was. When Kite had read Palm, he hadn't thought it meant… Palm.

The challenge format was flawed, he immediately observed; the contestants could simply choose not to attack anyone during the match, and since none of them would end up unconscious, they would all technically win. On the other hand, no self-respecting Hunter would settle for that kind of victory. So maybe it wasn't so flawed, after all. Their de facto goal, then, would be to take out as many other people as possible without self-termination in the process.

And then there was that interesting buddy-up business. Since the winners of the match were individuals, not teams, unconscious/dead people would still lose even if their teammate won. So because it wasn't specified that only teammates could work together, the only benefit to having a partner would be that you'd have one less person to potentially fight—a person you could be reasonably sure wouldn't betray you, whose help would be more reliable than that of a temporary truce.

So if Kite decided to fight, he'd be allowed on the NGL lineup—assuming he lasted the thirty minutes, of course. Conversely, if he ignored the offer, Gon would be forced to either fight alone or ally with Palm, who was liable to kill him before the match even started. They would also be forced to wait the full month before fighting if Kite never signed up, which Gon would definitely push back against. All in all, it was the perfect ploy to get Kite to play along and stay wrapped up in this NGL fiasco.

Why was the Chairman so eager to have him on the team?

"That's why I'm here," Palm haltingly declared. "As you can see, those ingrates Knuckle and Shoot have already joined up, and Knov-Sensei has informed me that Kite does not wish to participate. We must band together if we want to be on equal footing."

Gon's smile dropped.

"Kite… doesn't want to help?"

And if that wasn't an effective guilt trip, Kite didn't know what was.

"No, I never said that," he denied. "I'll do my best to get you to NGL, Gon. I'll team up with you."

"WHAT?"

"Ah, you must be mistaken, Miss Palm; Kite would never back down from something as important as this! I'm really sorry, but I'd like to have him as my partner," Gon diplomatically explained, and Kite felt his stomach turn. Is this how it must've been for Ging? This overwhelming need to be anywhere else?

"… You dare… reject me?"

Gon clasped his hands together in apology. "Only because Kite is my other option! If he were someone else I didn't know, I'd be glad to team up with you!"

There was only one thing discernible from the look on Palm's face, and that was the phrase, wrong answer.

"I… I can't believe… that after I so kindly explained the rules of the bout… you spit in my face. Do you even know what I've had to do to get considered for the team? I begged and begged and begged, days and days of trying to prove myself, and now you want to cripple me before the fight can even begin—me, the one who came here to HELP you. I didn't have to seek you out, and I didn't have to contact your old teacher to train you, but I did—all fo g. And then there's YOU, you viLE SNAKE. HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT KNOV-SENSEI WOULD EVER MISLEAD ME ABOUT THIS? YOU TOLD HIM YOU DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN THE TEAM, AND NOW YOU GO BACK ON YOUR WORD? I WILL RIP YOU APART WHERE YOU STAND."

"Oh, yeah?" Kite answered simply, his own aura rising up like smoke in response. "Go ahead and try."

But Gon dove between them before the matter could escalate. "Wait, Miss Palm! Just listen," he begged, and the only thing on Kite's mind was how to stop Palm from gutting the boy when she inevitably stopped listening. An appeal to reason had no way of reaching someone who only believes what they want to believe.

… So when Palm did nothing but keep listening, Kite realized that she actually wanted to believe him.

"What exactly are you losing by not having a partner?" Gon continued. "My Hatsu isn't meant for teams, and since we only just met, our teamwork won't be very good. So joining me won't be very helpful, and the only way that going alone would be harmful is if you have to fight too many people at once, like if the two groups teamed up against you. And I promise not to do that. You too, right, Kite?"

"Er, yeah."

And Palm's murderous aura actually died a bit. It made no sense. No, really. How was this working?

"But… what if you yourself attacked me? Or if two people from the same group attack me together?"

"I promise not to do that, too! And if the other team tries, I'll get in their way to make it more fair!"

To Kite's infinite horror, Palm… blushed.

"Oh, my… How honorable… But, how do I know you won't betray me? Your friend has already proven himself untrustworthy enough."

"Pinky swear," Gon told her, dead serious. "Come on—let's do it." He took her pinky in his and pledged in an odd, lilting chant, "I Pinky Swear That I Won't Let People Gang Up On Palm During Our Match. If I Break Our Promise, I'll Have To Swallow A Million Needles. Pinky: Sworn!"

Kite couldn't believe that he actually, willingly held her hand. If her skin was half as clammy as it looked, then it was probably like touching a dead fish.

"On the island where I'm from, there's another part: you push your thumbs together like this! Sealed with a kiss!"

Palm's overly large eyes widened even further, and further, and… "Ah—!"

… What the hell.

"Are you satisfied, now, Miss Palm?"

"A-ah, yes. I believe you," she whispered. "I guess there's… nothing left for me to do here, then. I look forward to meeting you… in c-combat, I mean."

"Me too!"

"O-oh, you," she giggled. "Until then, Gon~"

"Bye!"

And then she ambled out of the village center, free to wander about without anyone in her way. Over the course of all her screeching, the square had been abandoned by all other people.

And Kite waited for the comment, the question: Gee, I wonder why she said you didn't wanna fight with me. What could've possibly given her that idea? And Kite would have to tell him, then. That he was done, that he'd told Netero and the rest that he didn't plan on going back. That the only thing keeping him here was his duty to Gon, his duty to Killua—his debt, his implication, his guilt. But as the seconds ticked onward, the question never came, and he decided it didn't really matter if they talked about it or not. His motivations were his own. Nothing would change either way.

"Don't ever find yourself alone with her, Gon," Kite finally said. "Come get me if she approaches you, alright?"

"Sure," Gon complied, still staring after where Palm had left. His eyes had a faraway look to them.

He's thinking about Killua, something in Kite told him.

"Let's go back to the inn," he suggested. Gon nodded but was silent the entire way back, and Kite couldn't think of anything to say. It was Gon who usually carried the conversations, he realized.

Finally, as they stood outside their door, Kite decided to ask, "Are you okay?"

"I shouldn't have let her go," Gon said. "I'm ready. You're ready. What are we waiting for? We should have the fight right now. Let's go back and sign up."

There was one other weird thing about how Netero's challenge had been set up, and that was the month of time they were allowed to wait before starting the match. They couldn't fight until every last contestant was signed up for it (at least until a month had passed), so it was the least-confident contestant that'd get to decide the date. No matter how Kite looked at it, this condition seemed designed specifically with Gon in mind. Odds were that Gon was the one most out of their depth, here. He was the only one who really, really needed the time to train—and probably the one who'd go farthest with just a month of training.

"… I don't think that's a good idea," Kite said.

Maybe if they'd fought that ant under better conditions—if they met in broad daylight, if he'd known to hold his breath, if everyone was fully-rested…

He recalled the hair-raising feel of its aura and knew there was no way.

"Even if you win the match, if you go back to NGL right now, you'll probably just die."

Gon didn't say anything.

He's weighing his options, it said again.

"But hey, you don't have to stay long!" Kite hastily amended. "Just long enough for me to train you, a little, alright?"

Gon considered it for a moment, pushed open the door, and said, "A week. You have one week to make me stronger, and then I'm going back."

And then a fist flew into his face.

"IDIOT," a voice from inside roared. Out came a little girl—around Gon's age, really—in a dainty, pink dress and a crown braid of blond hair. Gon squinted up from his heap on the floor and gaped in more surprise than pain. They knew each other, then? A friendly punch? Yeah, Gon was smiling, now, like that dent in his face was the best gift he'd ever gotten. That was good; breaking up a fight between kids would be a hassle.

"B-Bisky?!"

"Don't you know the old man has a mean streak a continent wide? If he gives you a month to do something, then it should probably take a whole year," the girl berated. "I'm familiar with Morel's brats, and let me tell you, they'll chew you up faster than…"

The girl broke herself off when she finally seemed to notice Kite. She ogled him dumbfoundedly while taking a step back, like the full height of his body was something that required careful concentration. Then, very slowly and obviously, her eyes scrolled up and down his entire frame, filling him with the uneasy sense of… being dissected. It was almost like she was checking him out.

"PhwEEuuu," she whistled lowly in appreciation.

What.

"We-e-ell, hello, there! Wanna introduce me to the stringbean, Gon?"

Stringbean?

"Oh, this is Kite! He's Ging's student—really strong. Kite, this is Bisky, my mentor!"

"Mentor?" he repeated, this time aloud.

"That's right, hot stuff," she purred. "Taught him everything he knows."

What.

"Wow, that's, um, really impressive for someone so young," he awkwardly replied.

Bisky just gave a weird, haughty laugh, surprisingly deep in pitch. "Trust me; I'm more than woman enough to get the job done," she said with a wink. And then she winked again, in case he didn't get the point.

And to think Kite had believed nothing could be more uncomfortable than watching Palm crush on Gon. At this rate, he'd sweat through his shirt.

Oh, no—and now she was waiting for him to respond, but there was absolutely no way he could follow up to something like that. Nope, no words coming to mind. Say something, Gon, he silently begged.

"Um, but how are you here?" Gon inquired. Kite hid his sigh of relief with a cough.

"Some freaky chick rang me up—still don't know how the hell she got my number—and said you needed training, or something. Do you?"

"YES," he immediately replied. "Sorry, Kite, but I wanna train with Bisky, instead."

Like a hero, Kite suppressed the urge to just escape the situation by instantly agreeing and instead actually took a moment to think things over. Gon was pretty well-trained for someone his age, especially given that he'd only been training with Nen for one or two years, at most. If she was his mentor, then she clearly knew what she was doing, regardless of how young she was. Besides, Gon was experienced enough to know what counted as good instruction, right? If not, Kite could just step in later and take over.

"That's quite alright," Kite ended up saying, retroactively cringing at the weakness of his voice. "I'll, just, leave you to it, then."

Bisky sidled up to him a little closer. "There's no rule that says we can't both teach him, you know. We'll be like colleagues! Go on all sorts of wacky adventures—"

"Bisky, please. We need to get going," Gon urged. "What should I do?"

"Hmph. I was thinking of Ren endurance, to start. But what do you think, Kiiiite~?"

"You're the teacher, not me," he answered and started backing up toward the door. "I'll go get some exercise in the meantime."

"Mmmmmmm, I'd like to see that," Bisky leered. "Think you need any instruction? I'm a 'teacher' to more than just little boys, you know."

In what universe is that a good pick-up line?, Kite wondered to himself, which he really shouldn't have done, because now he was taking too long to respond again, and everyone was waiting for him to speak, and he needed Gon to say something right now.

"Bisky. Let's go," Gon insisted.

"Fine, fine, you little cockblock," she muttered. "Where's Killua?"

Kite's hand stopped on the doorknob.

"He could use some work, too," Bisky continued. "Come on; spill. You guys are never more than five steps apart."

Gon's eyes hardened. "He's hiding in NGL, right now."

"NGL? That hippie colony? What's going on there?"

"There are these huge chimera ants that are really strong," he explained. "They're eating a lot of people, and it's a big problem, and we got separated while going into their nest. And I have to win a big contest to join the team that's gonna fight them. I'm not sure how much of the rest you know, but that's what I need to get stronger for: so that I can go back and save him. So. Let's. Start."

"Hold on, Gon," she sighed. "Why would you assume that he's still there? Killua's not that stupid; if it's so dangerous, then he wouldn't stick around."

"Because if he had left, he'd be here right now."

Bisky made a mistake, Kite recognized. She assumed Gon hadn't thought this through.

But he'd thought about it. He'd thought about it.

"You said Ren endurance, right?" Gon carried on, firing up his Ren to the max. The ensuing wind began to stir the room—Bisky's dress flapping, Kite's hair blowing behind him. "I can hold it for fifty—no, sixty minutes, as is. How long should it be?"

Bisky stared at him quietly for a moment. "… Three hours."

And although he'd only known her for a grand total of four minutes, Kite thought she looked a little sad.

"Osu!"

Having lost the will to leave, Kite sat down against the wall. Watching Gon force out his Ren was a slightly painful experience; he started out strong, aura heady with abundance, but after twenty minutes, his breath started to come out a bit heavier, and his cheeks grew pink from exertion. From then on, he broke down slowly but surely, his stance adopting a number of microscopic crutches, the occasional twitch of his muscles blossoming into a violent, uncontrollable shiver. Veins popped. Sweat rolled. And sure enough, the moment Bisky's timer hit the sixty minute mark, he slumped to the floor.

"They say it takes a whole month to add ten minutes to your Ren length," Bisky said. "You won't have time to sleep."

Gon was already back on his feet.

Turning a page of her magazine, she peered at Kite from over the cover. "You don't think I'm going too hard on him, do you?"

"Not at all. I would've given him four hours, actually."

"Eh?!" Bisky squawked; she obviously took a lot of stock in her curriculum. "You do know he only has a month, right? There's no way anyone could gain three hours in that time, not even with me there to guide them."

He shook his head at her. "Sure, it's not normal, but our circumstances aren't exactly normal, either."

"Tch. You're cute, but you're crazy."

Kite turned back to Gon's sputtering aura. His lips were peeled back in a snarl, revealing two white bars of teeth and the motion of their gnashing. A bead of sweat fell into his eye; he didn't blink it away.

(You guys are never more than five steps apart.)

"I'm gonna go take a walk," Kite said. "I'll be back later tonight."

"Of course, buttercup. We wouldn't want those long legs to get sore~" he heard her call behind him. Kite forewent politeness and shut the door without answering.

So he wandered the village for a while, straying past hair salons and unfamiliar restaurant franchises, a deserted playground and a lonely bookstore, little grocery outlets hooked up to gas stations like siamese twins attached at the notion of convenience. Eventually, he stopped by a tiny thrift shop out of nostalgia—nostalgia? Maybe he really was getting old…

"Hi!" the cashier greeted when he walked in the door.

Kite was actually caught a little off guard. "Hi."

"Half-off everything in the front of the store! Just let me know if you need help finding something!"

"Thanks," he said with an attempt at a smile.

The store was completely devoid of other people, silent but for the hum of a few rickety ceiling fans. Racks of clothes he didn't need, towers of books he didn't go for, shelves of knick-knacks that mostly just creeped him out. Still, taking care to not expose his Hunter License (having dealt with more than a few bandits in his day), Kite fished around his wallet for some change.

There had to be something here he'd feel alright about buying. Despite his frugality and lack of interest in what he'd seen (Kite was not the type to tangibly want anything, anyways), he always felt obliged to lend small businesses a hand—something that Ging had called a pity-kink. Really, he was just a little in love with the idea of people working to improve their lives.

I didn't bring you along because I felt bad for you, Ging had once lectured him. I did it because you were wasting your life, and I could see that your life would be a shame to waste.

His phone abruptly buzzed in his pocket, loud enough to make the cashier jump in surprise.

Incoming Call…

Spinner Clow

Kite let it go to voicemail, bought a pack of jerky, and tossed it to some stray cats he saw on the way back.

It took twenty-six hours for Gon to pass out. Kite, though unsurprised, was actually quite impressed. How long had it taken for him to reach same point, all those years ago under Ging's unwatchful eye? Five hours? Even less?

Honestly, it was a little scary.

"Looks like it's time to do my thing," Bisky said, cracking her gloved fingers. "Magical Esthetician: Piano Massage!"

With a shower of pink sparkles, a Nen-construct appeared in the center of the room, took the form of a curvy woman, and started dancing her fingers along Gon's back. A weird way to go about a simple healing/rejuvenation Hatsu, to be sure. Unnecessarily complicated on the surface, but Kite couldn't really say for sure without knowing more about what it did and how it ticked.

"Pretty great, right?" Bisky cheekily inquired. "Deep tissue, cartilage, head and feet—Cookie does it all. Thirty minutes will be like a whole night of sleep!"

Yeah, that was actually a pretty common ability; Kite's seen no less than three other Hatsu that dealt with cutting sleep. "Can you use it on yourself while you're sleeping?"

"Well, no, I'd have to be conscious, but… you're missing the point!" she snapped. "My Cookie is highly desired the world over! I've massaged all kinds of world leaders, you hear me? Hell, I've probably turned down more royalty than I've accepted."

"… And?"

"And, that helps make me the most eligible bachelorette in this hemisphere," she smugly concluded. "And it could all be yours. Just imagine—instant access to all my lovely services, free of charge!"

Because of course that's where she was going with this. As he felt his expression tiredly slide off his face, Kite realized he was getting good at withstanding all this… sexual harassment. At this point, it felt more like a bad joke than anything else. Like a pun so lame that it came back around to being vaguely funny.

"Are you charging Gon, then?" he decided to ask.

She actually looked offended at the idea. "No, jerk. As his mentor, it's my sworn duty to help him reach his full potential. There's a lot there yet untapped, I think you can agree." Kite couldn't argue with that, and she wiggled her eyebrows at his silence. "You, however, don't have any of his charms, so if you wanted the same treatment, I'd have to get something in return."

"Well, I'm not asking for anything, so don't even worry about it," he drawled. Something, indeed. Even if Kite wanted her services (in a world where she was an adult, of course), there was no way he would ever whore himself out for it.

Prostitution is a risky business, Ging had said. The day will come when you'll have to do it, but make sure it's your last resort. Then, immediately afterwards, he'd posed as a stripper by the side of the road so he and Kite could hitchhike easier.

"Or, you could become my student, therefore making your development my priority."

"… I'm still not asking."

"Oh, come on," Bisky sighed. "You took Ging as a teacher—Ging! That's, like, trailer-park-mom levels of not giving a fuck. What exactly did he do for you, huh? Throw a picture of the word 'Nen' at your face and go out for a smoke? Your education is bound to have some gaps."

Kite was reminded of the time Ging actually did leave him for a cigarette… for two months. Okay, so Bisky might've had a point, there.

His teacher, however, had given him this valuable piece of advice: if a woman is nagging you, turn the situation on its head. And, not gonna lie, he didn't really like getting talked down to by a preteen.

"You're just jealous," he tried and immediately regretted trying; it sounded so much less stupid in his head.

And of course Bisky had to laugh. "Of Ging? Gimme a break; the best thing he's probably done is bring this little sucker into the world."

And Kite paused in honest confusion. Little sucker? Who…?—oh. Right. Gon was Ging's son. Somehow, he had forgotten—which was interesting, because they looked so much alike. More than that, he supposed, Gon just seemed like… his own person. Connected to Ging only through his desire to meet him. So when Kite looked at him, the only thing he saw was… him.

There was a time, though, when the resemblance had been unmistakable. When Gon had shielded a foxbear orphan from him three long years ago, eyes somehow both bright and dark, seeing only what he desired. It wasn't like Gon had changed from back then; more likely, it was Kite who changed. Somewhere along the way, he'd grown out of the impulse to immediately think of Ging whenever faced with the basic traits of a Hunter.

Still, there was no way he was going to take this sitting down. "And what do you know about what Ging's done?"

"Eh, the fundamentals. He dug up some stuff, basically," she chuckled. "We're both Two-Star Hunters, pal; I've gotten just as much shit done in my day. So you should treat my offer with some respect."

"… You're not serious."

She whipped out her license as evidence, and sure enough, it was decorated to the same level as Ging's: two stars. Just who the hell was this girl? Nen master, skilled teacher, and accomplished Hunter? Were all the kids just geniuses these days?

"Okay, that's, um… wow. Okay."

Bisky waved the card around the bridge of her nose. "Reconsidering?"

On top of being sure there was nothing she could teach him, he imagined the blow to his pride at having a kid boss him around and the backlash from Ging for the betrayal… Okay, there probably wouldn't be any backlash. In fact, he was more likely to commend Kite for pursuing new opportunities where he could find them. And yet, as irrational as it was, he didn't want to be taught by anyone but him.

"No, not really."

She put her license away and pulled out a magazine. "You'd probably be a sucky student, anyways," she grumbled. "Probably picked up on all of Ging's bad habits. Running around on people, avoiding responsibility—how'd you even run into Gon?"

"He just sorta… showed up," Kite lamely recounted. "I think he was looking for Ging but found me instead? The card from his game didn't work right, or something."

"Because you guys seem really close after only hanging out for, like, a month."

They did? "Well, Gon's a friendly boy," he offered in lieu of his skepticism. Kite didn't think they were that close.

"He thinks of you quite highly," she added. "I can tell."

That, he agreed with. "Yeah."

"Don't disappoint him."

"… Yeah."

And one week later, Bisky was left pacing the narrow confines of their quarters while Kite sat in a nearby armchair. He observed her rambling with a patience that spoke more of his reserved nature than any actual lenity. His repose had always carried a certain dispassion that pushed his softer features out of focus, though in this case, perhaps he looked on not without a little fondness—perhaps not without a little pride.

"I can't believe it. How. How?"

"Nothing with Nen is a sure bet," Kite told her. "Our circumstances are far from ordinary."

"But a week?" she repeated. "He gained TWO HOURS of Ren endurance in a WEEK? That's not just unheard-of; it goes against every theory book I've ever read, every theory book I've ever written—"

At first glance, Gon looked awful, having not showered for a week while forcing his body beyond its limits—or, rather, forcing his limits to move with his body. His hair was caked with sweat, flattening his usual spikes into a greasy curtain, and his cheeks were hollow from the strain, the skin purpling slightly in the divots.

But his eyes were alive with hope.

Neferpitou hit the ground running, so to speak. Bounding up the stairwell from the hatchery, it took three—nine—fifteen steps at a time before it ran out of stairs to jump. It let its limbs fly instinctually, feeling out the million postures and processions taken by the billions to come before it; Pitou could distinctly sense each minute miracle that lead to this moment, every happenstance and diversion, and with a surge of something too removed from humility to accurately be called gratitude, it leapt into the present, trampolining off the web of evolutionary tributaries that all converged at the here and now, past the river delta and into the sea.

And it could smell the sea—far beyond the horizon, a hundred miles away (160.93 kilometers, 28.97 nautical leagues), salt and iodine and little swimmy things. Pitou's been both the school of fish and the falcon that scoops one from the water, predator and prey finally stepping out of the circle of life, hand in hand, thought to thought, gazing back at the cycle in which they lived and died for so many millennia (eons, ages). And they thought it was beautiful. And they thought they were beautiful.

It chased the smell all the way outdoors, to the ledges on the walls of the nest, and threw its hands out to hail the sun. Right then and there, Pitou decided that it enjoyed being alive.

"Took you long enough," said someone on the ledge.

Pitou regarded the someone and leaned further into its infinite wealth of intuition. "Are you… my brother?"

"If that's what you want to see me as," he said. "My name is Shaiapouf, and I've been waiting for you."

"Oh?" Pitou hummed. "I came as fast as I could."

"Nevermind that. Look to the east," he ordered. And in the east, there was a great, shimmering wall of mist that cut through the forest and climbed high into the sky. "Those are my clones," he revealed. "I arranged their cells to create a mirage around the nest. There are two humans trapped inside and one that can escape as he pleases. Between the three of them, someone is bound to break through."

"But… aren't humans weak?"

"Yes, but these are different," Shaiapouf claimed. "They can use Nen. You can, too."

Pitou let go of the strange pressure that'd been building and marveled at the rush of energy. "Nen, huh. I like it."

"Yours is as strong as I'd hoped, from what I could feel from your egg," Pouf said. "Stronger than my own and stronger than these humans."

"Oh, really?" it purred.

"Push it out from your body as far as you can. Let them feel your power; let them know they can come no further."

Pitou's En reached far and wide, and everything it touched stopped—Morel in shock, Knov in fear, and Netero in anticipation. Then, just as Pouf had planned, the humans retreated, allowing him to call back his clones. The other chimera ants, after realizing the soul-crushing weight came from one of their own, concluded that another Royal Guard had been born and continued to mill about.

Killua, on the other hand, made sure to stay very still.