Okay, someone brought up the fact that I mentioned romance in the description. Yes, I do plan on there being a touch of romance in here. However, as evident through the genres I classified this story under, I do not plan on focusing on it. As for who it's with...well, you'll figure it out. I'm also a bit hesitant to call it a romance. If you haven't noticed, Corona isn't the most feeling person in the world. The way I imagine her falling in love is an interest growing into an infatuation. That's basically how her relationship with her brother formed. I think she considers herself a bit closer to him than any of the others in the troupe, meaning she sees him as more than an acquaintance. That's how she classifies almost all the people she knows, by the way. If she uses the term 'friend', for the most part, it's just her casually throwing the word around. She doesn't mean it in its truest sense.

Well then, I hope that was helpful. By all means, continue to the story now.

I slip between the clusters of men, nearing the center arena. Although the dim light makes it so I can't see their faces, I get the feeling they're none too pleasant to look at. Their stench and manners are enough to tell me that much. Their cheers aren't exactly civilized, either. With their cries to crush the opponent, they might as well be a den of animals.

The reigning champion of the arm wrestling seems to be a small, muscular man with a scruffy beard. He might be short, but as I watch on, he tackles the challenge of men twice his size in height and muscles. I'd guess the dominant cheer right now is his name, although, I can't make out exactly what it is in this din.

He forces down the hand of a man who looks like a body builder, the crowd erupting even louder than before. The shorty lifts his fist in the air, like a hero from a storybook.

Three men to my right begin punching, arguing over who's to fight him next. I release my Zetsu and shove past the last row of people to get to the stage. The victor gawks at me in disbelief, the crowd gradually quieting as they notice me. I sit down, smiling at the shorty.

"I'll be your opponent," I state, patting the table for him to join me sitting.

The combined laughter is deafening, but compared against Uvogin, they're mere mice tittering. I don't move from my position, meeting the victor's gaze head on. I happened to overhear a man talking about this arm wrestling event earlier today, and how much money it could earn, and decided to follow him. If there're any worthy competitors, this could be fun.

"How'd you get in here, little girl?" the shorty scoffs. "If you came to get your pretty little nails painted-"

"Nails painted?" I examine my fingers. "If that's what you came here wanting, I think you should try a nail salon next time. Sorry, but I don't plan on being gentle with your "pretty little" nails."

His lips twitch. "Ha ha, funny. I don't really have any plans to break a little girl's arm today, so why don't you just step off the stage?

"I don't really feel like breaking a little girl's arm, either, so you should really take your own advice and surrender." Veins on his forehead begin to bulge as cat calls and hollers rise from our audience.

"Fine," he consents, taking the seat across from me. "If you feel like walking out of here with a broken hand, who am I to tell you no?"

I snark, "A broken hand? You don't have much confidence, do you? Just a second ago you were saying you'd break my whole arm!"

Teeth gritted, he situates his elbow and waits for me to offer my hand. I do so, not feeling rushed. As soon as my hand's within his grasp, he wraps his fingers around with all his strength. From the tension in his muscles, I can tell he's trying to crush my hand before we've even begun. Merciful, isn't he?

The ref, who's been standing to the side dumbfounded this entire time, finally seems to come back to his senses. He raises his hand, hesitating for only a second before swinging it down and shouting, "Begin!"

I set my arm, not pretending to give even a little as the shorty throws all he has at my hand. His arm flexes, his fingers tightening as much as they're able, his palms beginning to sweat. If I lose this, the only reason would be because my hand slips from his due to it being sweaty. Seriously, it's gross! Maybe I shouldn't prolong this.

I let him continue for a few more seconds, yawning. Even though his face turns red when he sees my lack of care, he doesn't push or press any harder. He can't, after all. He's already giving all he's got. Then I reach the end of my patience and throw down his hand, yanking my own back away from his sweaty palm.

The crowd is silent.

Then come the gasps as people realize what just happened. The previous victor stares at his own hand in disbelief, slowly shifting his gaze to look over at me.

"Be thankful I didn't shatter every bone in your hand," I smirk. Honestly, even Kortopi is stronger than this guy, and he's the weakest in the Phantom Troupe. Now that I'm thinking about it, this guy isn't much taller than Kortopi, is he? For a grown man, this guy's a midget!

The shorty, finally having the past few seconds sink in, scrambles from the stage. I stand from my seat, bowing with a flourish of my hand. The entire audience explodes with plaudits, multiple of the onlookers whistling. I lower my head, chuckling to myself. Even if they are weaklings, being glorified like this isn't bad. It's certainly satisfying to be the strongest in the room. With the rest of the troupe, I just feel so ordinary. Being extraordinary among them is nothing special.

"What's your name, girl?" The referee asks, extending the microphone to me.

Grinning, I lean over and say, "Secret."

"You heard it, men! Our new victor is Secret!" Well, I didn't mean I wanted to be called that, but whatever. I figured it'd imply I don't want to give out my name. Maybe they just need a title of some sort to use. "Now, who wants to step up and challenge her?"

"I've got one," someone volunteers. Like most others, I look to see who spoke. It's a man in a suit, probably a part of the mafia that was chasing us around a few days ago. "This kid's up for the challenge."

Kid indeed. The child's even younger than I am. His spiky black hair reaches towards the lights, his green outfit sticking out like a sore thumb among the dull dressed men. I guess I shouldn't underestimate him, though. Everyone in the room was underestimating me up until now, and look at what that got them. If he's here, he must be pretty strong. I sit back down, smiling at the kid. To my amusement, he returns my grin innocently.

"Okay, then-" The ref is cut off by the lights being flipped back on. A white skinned man wearing surprisingly little leaps onto the stage and I freeze, confused.

"Sorry folks!" the weirdo announces. "Arm Wrestling has been cancelled! We'll now be doing some conditional auctioning! The game is Hide and Seek! We'll now pass out the flyers!"

I step over to the edge of the stage, accepting a flyer from one of the masked women. When I see what's on it, I have to throw a hand over my mouth to suppress my laughter. Pictures of Uvogin, Shizuku, Shalnark, Feitan, Machi, Franklin, and Nobunaga plaster the page. I get it! Of course they're after them! They're the ones who went to steal the auction's treasure, after all. As expected, I'm not on it. I didn't actively participate in the massacre or anything, and I was using my Zetsu the entire time during the cliff encounter and balloon ride. I don't see why anyone would have noticed me.

The commotion truly begins when the prize of two billion Jenny is announced. Dead or alive, apparently they're all worth two billion Jenny. Each. Personally, you'd have to pay me at least twice the amount to get me to seriously chase after any of them. Well, I could probably take Shizu and Shal out pretty easily, but transmuters like Machi and enhancers like Uvogin and Nobunaga would prove problematic for me. The best part is, though, that the clueless brutes in this room will probably pursue them blindly and get themselves killed. Well, that's supposing any of them are actually smart enough and skilled enough to somehow get near any of them.

I stuff the flyer into the pocket of my jean skirt. If none of them figure it out before I return, I can probably get a good laugh out of a few of them by waving this in their faces. Or I could just keep it to myself and let them figure it out on their own. Leaning on the sides of the arena, I watch as the men scramble to get in line and pay for admission to the fatal game.

After a minute, I sigh. This is no fun. I came to dominate, not to listen to their dreams of becoming rich scumbags instead of poor ones. I slip out from the ring, about to step off the stage when I catch a hint of aura.

I snap my head around, meeting the surprised eyes of a white haired kid who quickly lowers his gaze. I study him, unfazed. He's in line, much like the others, holding one of the flyers. Even so, he's obviously unlike those surrounding him. Although now he's hidden it, a moment ago his aura was leaking. Not only is he aware of his Nen, and correctly wary of me, but his companions include the kid in green who had been about to battle me.

Since I feel like he'll run if he senses me approach, I suck in the bit of aura I'd been letting out and slip down into the crowd. When I catch sight of him, my suspicions are confirmed. He's tensed, ready to flee. Neither of his friends seem to have noticed, though. They're too concerned about signing up. The white haired kid is no longer looking me direction. Maybe he thinks he'll be able to sense me. If that's the case, his eyes would be much more trustworthy for finding me.

"Hey, aren't you that kid that wanted to challenge me?" I address the spiky haired kid. The other kid stiffens, whipping his head up to look at me. The one in green glances over at me, taking a second to register who I am before blinding me with a smile.

"Ah, you're that girl!" he exclaims. "The one who just won!"

"That's right, I'm her. Nice to meet you." I offer him my hand.

Taking it, he shakes it. "I'm Gon. This is Leorio and Killua!"

"I see." I smile at each of them, taking great pleasure at the hostility emitting from the white haired Killua. "So, I take it you're gonna go after the bounty money? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you look pretty young to be chasing after class A bounties. How old are you?"

"Thirteen," Gon states. "But you don't have to worry. I'm a hunter!"

I raise a brow and look to the eldest, Leorio, for confirmation. He just puffs his chest like a proud rooster. So I take it that he's a hunter too, then. Does that mean Killua is as well? When I look at him, though, he shows no reaction to my disbelief. "Really?" I continue. "That's pretty impressive! I'm kinda curious, now. You know, as to which one of us would have won the arm wrestling. After you sign up for the hunt, do you maybe want to still arm wrestle? We can go find somewhere else to do it, if you want. No prize money involved."

"Yeah, sure!" he accepts.

"You never told us your name," Killua speaks for the first time, his eyes daggers of suspicion.

I snicker. "You caught that, huh? That's not usually information I hand out. I'll tell you what. I'll tell you after I arm wrestle your buddy here, whether I win or lose. Does that sound acceptable, Killua?"

"Don't worry about it, Ms." Gon says, that smile of his yet to leave his face. "If you don't want to tell us, you don't have to."

"Although," Leorio leers, "I would love to know the name of a pretty young girl like you."

I backhand his chest lightly, causing him to grunt. "Sorry, bucko. Lechers aren't my type. And it's not like it's the end of the world if I tell you my name, Gon. I think your friend would feel better knowing, too, so it's only fair I give you that in return for you accepting my challenge."

"It's our turn," Leorio notes, rubbing to ease the new pain in his chest. He steps up to write their names, throwing down wads of money he must have been carrying around. I smirk, seeing this. I wonder if he knows just how dangerous it is to carry around his fortune? If we had crossed in the street, and I noticed his immense wealth, I would have stolen it all. I might have even beat him to a pulp, just cause I felt like it. He's lucky we didn't pass each other on the streets.

"Now that that's done," I playfully point towards the exit, "shall we find a venue to settle our little dispute?" Although Leorio and Gon seem to have no problem with it, Killua refuses to walk ahead of me. I flip around to walk backwards, facing the skeptical kid. "You aren't very trusting, are you?"

"Are you suggesting I should trust you?"

Chuckling, I reply, "I never said that."

"Is here okay, Ms?"

I turn back, finding Gon stopped at a little table outside a cafe. I grin. "This is perfect. How about the loser treats the winner to a meal?"

"Deal," he nods. We seat ourselves across from one another, Killua and Leorio pulling up chairs of their own to watch. They'd probably stand, if I hadn't suggested the meal. They must be hungry, too.

"Before we begin," I clarify, "I have one question."

Gon blinks. "What is it?"

"Are we going to arm wrestle with or without Nen?"

I really like this scene. I mean, it's purely her having a bit of fun. Also, she's now met Gon and Killua! Obviously. Leorio's there too, of course, but it's really the two of them she's got her eyes on. Why wouldn't she? They're pretty extraordinary boys. She hasn't seen the half of it. She's taken a liking to them for completely different reasons, though. She likes Gon's joyful nature, and how innocent he is. For Killua, she loves how guarded he seems to be. She likes to bug people like that, but she doesn't find them too often. I think she also finds them both to be fairly cute, their attitudes and appearances. When I first created her character, I hadn't thought about it, but I think she really likes cute things. She's never overly girly, though. I can't see her wearing anything like frills or lace. Maybe I should go add that to my profile of her.

Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!