"…to the east…"
The wind woke the tired middle-aged-man. He was thirsty, hunger aggravating his empty stomach. Worse was his appalling headache that made him stumble on nothing in particular.
Oh, how Hisoka would laugh. The skill-hunter, the well-feared leader of the Genei Ryodan.
Dying of hunger in the middle of nowhere?
But there is no time for self-pity, he'd say to himself.
Twice he had hitched a ride from jeeps passing by, using his friendly, hair-let-down, seventeen-year-old no-way-the-leader-of-Genei-Ryodan look.
He has degraded himself to someone like that.
But there's no time for self-pity, he'd remind himself.
He had to force himself onward, and lift himself on angel wings to heaven.
Then, pull back to earth.