Loud footfalls of hundreds of people filled the tunnel, no voices heard amidst the noise - in the two hours passed since the beginning, all conversations, few as they were, gradually died down as everyone concentrated on preserving their energy. The crowd now became dispersed, examinees evenly spaced out, leaving plenty of space between. Sometimes, someone would move to the other part of the crowd for whatever reason, but mostly everyone kept to their space. 

As expected, applicants were holding up well, none of them withdrawing or even showing signs of exhaustion yet, the only sign of passing kilometres being sweat stains some examinees sported. HeeJin stared at one of such backs. A large spot of darkened fabric caused her to involuntarily thin her lips each time her gaze landed on it, a reminder of her own growing tiredness. She, too, removed all extra layers of clothes, putting her large beanie and coat in the backpack. HeeJin was not fatigued, not yet, but the lack of knowledge of how long they had to run was putting more stress on her than she expected, mental strain adding to her physical state.

For a while, she kept somewhat one-sided conversation with the girls, mostly listening Choerry and Chuu’s stories, occasionally intertwining with HyunJin’s. HeeJin was having a rising suspicion that half of those were made up. Possibly more. But now they settled into relative silence, only sometimes broken by HyunJin’s questions about interesting weaponry or possibly meaningful tattoos on other examinees, which Choerry eagerly answered. Chuu spoke up whenever she had something interesting to add, but mostly the girl also kept silent.

HeeJin herself drifted away from actively listening, only occasionally paying attention to what was happening around. Not that the topics weren’t informative, quite the opposite, but she was trying to save all her focus for running as efficiently as she could. Granted, HeeJin did not know how, but her focusing on her breathing and footsteps seemed to work, whether it was true or just an autosuggestion.

An elbow to her side tore HeeJin from her thoughts, a curse escaping through clenched teeth - it was a painful hit, almost guaranteeing to bruise there later. She glared at Chuu, massaging the spot, as the girl blinked innocently, and, now that she got HeeJin’s attention, pointed to the side. 

HeeJin followed with her eyes and gasped.

Drowning out her surroundings, she missed an approach of an unusual sound, but now she couldn’t not notice it - amidst all participants, a white-haired kid rode on a skateboard, hands shoved into pockets. HeeJin’s mind went back to the rule that stated examinees could bring whatever they wanted, but she didn’t think someone would take that as an invitation for something that impractical (although, weirdly, a skateboard found its use on the Hunter Exam, however weirdly it was sounding to her). He was slowing down, now almost aligning with them and the redhead was enthusiastically motioning at the skateboard.

Chuu leaned closer, loudly whispering. “Now that is smart!” 

Loudly enough for the kid to hear her, apparently, as the boy slanted an indifferent eye at them.

Chuu, unperturbed by the attention, gave him two thumbs up and a bright smile. “Love your skateboard! Great thinking ahead!”

His eyebrows twitched.

Inwardly cringing at Chuu’s choice of phrasing and gesturing for what she assumed was a genuine praise, HeeJin wanted to add a couple of less impersonal words to make the statement less viewable as condescension, but the boy was already moving away, no longer even looking in their direction. 

“Thanks,” he dropped, deliberately slowing, sliding between the runners and behind them, out of sight.

Chuu sent a grin to HeeJin and put some distance between them once again. HeeJin shook her head, slightly exasperated at the exchange and made an extra deep inhale, attempting to plant herself back in her concentration. An outraged yelp rang behind them, from the direction boy off to, a loud voice accusing someone of cheating.

Chuu snorted next to her. Unable to hear what exactly commotion was about (but having a pretty good idea) HeeJin rolled her eyes and once again focused on her movements.

---

Having to consciously stop herself from humming, Choerry observed other examinees, some of whom were running much more mechanically than they were at the start. Their eyes were more focused, movements set in a pattern they were determined to keep even past their limits. Heavy footfalls filled the tunnel, unified in a disharmonious endless noise, no voices heard anywhere. 

Applicants went from “running unknown distance” to “running a marathon” mode.

As Choerry kept to their group, absence of more advanced examinees running nearby kept her attention aimless. She was stuck between looking at the bland applicants and silently watching the girls, as any conversation with either HyunJin or HeeJin was impossible now.

Well, not impossible, but inadvisable. HyunJin’s last question was an hour ago, the girl now deep in concentration, just like HeeJin fell in earlier. 

Regrettably, Choerry had also rapidly approached and breezed past the point where any light-far-from-identifying-or-personal discussions with Chuu felt amusing. For the time being, they both stopped their fruitless attempts of solving each other. Until they got further into the exam or to a more secluded location, there were no topics to discuss for them - while some of the people around will just die, the majority will fail the usual way and come back into the world. All of her besties chided her time and time again about talking on sensitive topics in precarious positions among curious ears - and there were some crowds that were safe to talk in, but this one was not one of those - until she finally developed a better habit of keeping track of what she was saying. 

So, with Chuu there was no possibility for chatting either, not until they got to a more isolated location.

There won’t be any deep heart-to-heart anyway, Choerry was not eager to place her full trust in someone who she just met who was also a capable enough individual to have plenty of dangerous secrets tucked away.

The feeling was obviously mutual.

Choerry looked to her right, where other girls were running.

While Chuu looked like she just started a little jog, bored out of her mind, it was obvious that HeeJin and HyunJin were growing tired. Being objective, both of them were holding up better than a regular person would, already running over the three-hour mark, more than forty kilometres away from the start. While both of them were above average, they still were noncombatants.

Well, noncombatants might be a wrong term here, taking HeeJin’s sable into account. Civilians were also a wrong word - God knew there were no civilians on this exam. Inexperienced, over their head, dead end folks, but no ordinary people.

Which did not mean that being a civilian was inherently a diminishing thing! Or defining. Choerry could not in sane mind talk like it was, considering herself.

But HeeJin was a civilian civilian.

So was HyunJin, she was sure, given that the girl did not display any identifiable marks of a martial arts school, not even subtle hints, not in the clothes, not in the way she moved. Very few visible scars also told nothing. The girl probably had close to none of the proper training. Maybe some light guidance, but not much more.

Even so, HyunJin had a good fortitude. Not sweating, she kept her footsteps light - granted, civilian-light, but still! - brows furrowed in concentration and staring somewhere ahead of her. Choerry had to give it to the girl: she was faring better than half of the applicants!

On the other hand, there was HeeJin.

Choerry moved closer to the girl.

“Hey, how are you?” HeeJin’s breathing was labored, effort being put in keeping her movement's pattern. Her steps were becoming sloppier, but she kept the pace.

“I’m fine,” exhaled HeeJin, lying. Neither of them knew how much longer it was until the end of the first phase. They ran over forty kilometres by this point, sure, but it was nothing to a professional Hunter. None of the examinees have withdrawn yet.

She dropped the topic, letting HeeJin concentrate back on her running. 

Which became even slower after nine more kilometres, when HeeJin began lagging so much that she was now running in the tail of the crowd, both Choerry and HyunJin slowing down with her. 

The girl stopped completely after another five. 

Choerry stopped too and so did HyunJin, breathing heavily. Other examinees passed by, and soon they were standing alone, everpresent footsteps distancing.

HeeJin stood there, doubled over, panting loudly. Choerry eyed her appraisingly.

“Are you withdrawing?”

---

Question barely breaking through the fog, HeeJin weakly shook her head one time and the movement nearly made her crane to the side. A couple seconds passed.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Choerry asked from above, her even tone breaking through the noise in her head. If HeeJin felt better, she would be able to be grateful for the lack of any condescension or pity in her voice.

But she wasn’t - her vision swam, as did her head, pulsating pressure building in it for an hour, exhaustion finally getting the better of her now. She wordlessly shook her head again.

This was so hard! She felt drained, her limbs filled with lead. All of her praised stamina, and look who is the first to fail this exam! So much for being better than average. 

Should’ve known one had be truly exceptional to become a Hunter.

“Why not? You can rest for a while, then continue by yourself.”

She couldn't rely on others' help for this phase. If she can’t run with them, what will she do when she has to fight?

Something cold pushed against her cheek.

She slowly opened her eyes and saw in a blurred colours and shapes someone’s legs and two white blobs, one of which was pressed against her cheek.

HyunJin was standing near her, looking thoughtful. HeeJin shook her head slightly, but HyunJin kept standing there, pressing a water bottle pointedly.

Begrudgingly, she straightened, head spinning from the effort. She took the already opened bottle and made a small gulp of water.

And another one, feeling both dehydrated and like she was gonna puke at the same time.

“You did not come here on an exotic holiday,” said HyunJin after taking her bottle back. “You trained for it or else wouldn’t have run all the way up here at all. There was a goal you had in mind when applying.”

Of course she had a goal! So many. With a cornerstone - getting the Hunter license - failure to achieve which was a failure of all of them.

She was trying her best to get her freedom secured.

HeeJin slowly blinked. Right. “You are standing, meaning you are still able to dance,” her strict ballet teacher’s voice echoed in her head.

She gave no visible reaction and HyunJin firmly took her forearm. “Lets go,'' she said, pulling. “You can’t give up only three and a half hours into the exam.”

The girl jerked her stronger, causing HeeJin to stumble in surprise, catching herself from tripping over her legs and making a step forward to steady herself.

She felt a pressure on her shoulder, a hand sticking where it touched her sweaty skin, Choerry looking at her encouragingly. The girl gave her a couple pats before looking forward, starting to walk after the examinees.

For HeeJin this exam was not a choice between nearly equal outcomes. In the last month before the exam “Do or die” became her mantra. The alternative might be worse and she pushed away thoughts about it. (What was her family doing right now, she wondered.) Too much time spent on getting out. She needed this license. Do her best or die.

She can do that.

With gargantuan effort, she made the next step, HyunJin still pulling her forward. Another step, another one and she was trotting. Her legs were screaming in protest, but she grit her teeth and willed herself to continue. It took her another dozen or two to reach the speed of the crowd again. HyunJin let go of her forearm but kept close, as well as Choerry, waiting for HeeJin to be ready to accelerate and catch up to other examinees. 

---

Next hour was only barely more eventful than previous ones. The juice-drinking man from the beginning, one in a suit, almost dropped out but caught a second wind. It was a loud affair. 

Another man, short and fat, clutching a laptop, did stop at around an eighty-kilometer mark, also with a loud wail. Other than that, nothing happened. HyunJin also hasn't spotted Chuu ever since the former stayed on their spot when HeeJin was out of breath. It took them about forty minutes before getting back in the midst of it, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. HyunJin concluded that she likely moved somewhere to the front of the crowd in their absence.

The monotony of the marathon lulled HyunJin in an almost meditative state, nothing pulling her interest. So when a commotion far in the front happened, her mind instantly snapped towards it, trying to see between the participants and listening intently. Due to the distance and her height, she saw nothing, the only reactions she caught were of general surprise and disbelief, not alarmed or panicked.

Yelps came closer and closer, until they understood what was happening too.

Choerry whistled next to her. 

“You must be kidding me,” breathed out HeeJin next to her and HyunJin made a sound of agreement. 

Stairs. Long, seemingly just as endless as the tunnel they were running through for the past four and a half hours.

Who built this monstrosity? She could understand it before, the convenient and direct underground transportation for whatever. But stairs? How were the stairs a logical conclusion for this tunnel? HyunJin scrunched her nose. What a stupid waste.

This architectural monstrosity was rapidly approaching and running up was the only way to go.

Well. HyunJin forcefully breathed out. These stairs may be a sin of logic, but so was she.

She steeled herself and added a little spring in her step.

---

“Why are you wearing a business suit if you aren’t good enough for them?” Leorio’s focus straggled a bit, interrupting his silent fuming. There, to his right, looking relaxed and curious, ran one of those girls that kept chatting on and on a couple hours ago. He was certain he overheard their names. Uh, Shoe? No, that was certainly wrong. 

“What's your name, again?” he frowned slightly, keeping his volume lower than usual, not wishing to rile himself up for an argument. His second wind was limited and he was not a fool to let this girl help him find it sooner.

She smiled brightly. “Chuu!”

“None of your business, Chuu,” he said, the “ off” tone loud and clear. The last thing he needed was a discussion of his looks, he had neither energy for it, nor patience. First reactions to his age and now this?! Seemed like everyone wanted to get on his nerves today. He was honestly expecting more from Gon - not from Kurapika, he might’ve turned out to be an actually decent person, but also rude as all hell - but Gon! Killua was whatever, definitely less polite than Kurapika and almost a stranger, no high expectations about him. But Gon! They were no longer friends after this. Leorio was clearly a teenager! 

Still coming to terms that his friends were apparently blind, some stranger’s nosy comments about his clothing irked him. Especially since she was even worse with her own choices! A goddamn dress? Girlie, have you thought about where you were going?

Even more, what that even was supposed to mean?! “Not good enough for it”? What the? Was she insulting him on purpose?

Whatever. He was absolutely not interested in chit-chat. Running, not talking.

Unfortunately, Chuu did not take the clue.

“But you aren’t used to it!” she half-argued, half-whined.

Leorio snarled. “Shut up! I want to hear nothing from someone who wore a dress to the Hunter Exam!”

Chuu groaned. “Why is everyone so fixated on it! It is not that weird. Come on. Shorts! They exist. I swear, nobody here ever talked to a single feminine and physically active girl! Look, better freedom of movement, less pretentious, cute, good for any level of capabilities, dresses are great and suitable for any skill level. While other clothes, like suits, for example, will handicap you if you aren’t good enough,” she sent him a meaningful look.

“I am more than good enough,” her complete lack of social competency looked like it was made specifically to get on his nerves, the girl stubbornly spinning the conversation further no matter how pushing he was.

“You are currently shirtless,” pointed out Chuu, skeptically eyeing the tie, still around his neck, one of the ends flapping behind and the other stuck to his back. Still having “As I was saying” written in her stare, she looked at his torso and the tag, glued to his chest, pointing out the lack of shirt.

He was so done with everyone at this goddamn exam.

“And doing fine!”

Leorio was unable to not gape in incredulity when she honest-to-god pouted doubtfully at him.

---

What a long staircase! It wasn’t even built in a straight line, serpentine like a snake, with no light at the end and, compared to the flat ground, the contestants were tiring much faster. Finally, after over eighty-five kilometers, there was a steady stream of failures. Exhausted participants, unable to force themselves to make another step up seemingly infinite stairs, fell and stayed there, the flow of the crowd avoiding them. Besides her. She was simply jumping over them, throwing off people running behind her, creating a bigger, than usual, distance behind her from the wary examinees.

But mostly doing it just to mix things up.

Choerry was in high spirits, outright humming one of new catchy g-pop* songs, proud of her new friends, both of them still running next to her. 

HeeJin was almost serene in her determined focus, so deep inside her own head, it would be cruel to shake her out of it. Given that she stopped once already, Choerry was not that eager to ruin her chances, the girl already was running for an hour past her limit. 

She seemed like a trained girl, but not purely in a combat-wise sense, now that she thought about it. True, HeeJin had a sable, and Choerry had no doubts the girl knew how to use it, hands selectively callused, with very few scars. But the way she ran… While her stamina was way better than average, her movements were painfully wasteful ever since the first phase began. She was inclined to think that HeeJin learned fencing as a sport, rather than a demand for her occupation.

But other from mastery of the sword, any other action skills were neglected. Even before the start of the first phase, the volume of her footsteps were betraying that, broadcasting her level to any attentive bystander. No, her stamina was either from other stamina-required sport or from her own dedicated practice.

Or an unconscious use of nen. You can never rule that one out.

Choerry gazed at figures of examinees running in front of her, thinking. 

HeeJin, without a doubt, was of a civilian background, she already went over it. But there was more than a simple life of a noncombatant. People on the exam generally separated in two groups: running towards something or running from it.

If HeeJin were to stop for good, she would offer her help again. The determination that carried her all this way was born from a deep place, one she somewhat recognized, blurry and fainter, but familiar from faces of her best friends. She knew she would insist on carrying her again, more persistently, if needed, until HeeJin agreed. Her perseverance was the only thing that mattered for Choerry to offer her help her again.

Admittedly, she was more interested in HyunJin’s capabilities. Frowning lightly, she was steadily moving with almost the same spirit she had in the beginning. Furthermore, HyunJin was only now showing visible signs of fatigue, a sheen of sweat on her face. Absence of training or not, she was going to finish on her own, Choerry was a hundred percent sure.

She would also bet, lets say, eighty grand on HyunJin’s nen-type. 

One song ending in her mind, Choerry started humming another.

She wanted to run ahead, maybe find someone to talk to, but decided to stay close to those two, just in case.

---

There was no tell who would pass, but Chuu was a very likely contender.

Earlier, when the phase just began, Kurapika paid attention to the girls’ chatter from time to time, coming to a conclusion that it was a wasteful management of their resources. Now it was apparent that he concluded wrong - Chuu wasn’t affected by the marathon in the slightest. He did not know about the other talkative one, with purple hair, as the group seemed to separate, but the redhead running with them was b with energy.

For the last couple minutes, Chuu was poking at Leorio’s dwindling patience, initiating a conversation exclusively out of sheer boredom, it seemed. She didn’t need to make pauses mid-sentences to inhale and, as much as he could be sure in dim lights, an expected sheen of sweat was absent. Moreover, her knitted elbow-high gloves, that were an obvious first thing to take off to lessen the heating from exercise, were still on.

No, Chuu might’ve as well stood in one place all this time.

What kind of training would develop stamina to such a level? What kind of life would require it?

Was she a dangerous criminal or a hard-working, but honest, fighter? 

Leaving other girls behind, was it pragmatism or selfishness?

As Leorio was beginning to fume, he decided to participate in the conversation to see if he could anything out of the girl, if only to save his friend from exhausting himself on meaningless banter.

“Weren’t you one of those girls who warned about the juice earlier? Thank you for that, it was close.” 

Chuu’s attention snapped to him, expression brightening seeing that someone was willing to help with the tedium of the marathon.

Leorio turned to him, confused. 

“You haven’t noticed,” he said to the prospective medic, “but she and her friends signaled against drinking that juice.”

Leorio frowned. “What?”

Chuu slowed down and ran from Leorio’s side to his, speeding up again. “There were some laxatives in it. Nothing criminal, just a little inconvenience, costing a year,” she looked Kurapika in the eyes, chipper. “But your welcome.”

He nodded. Half of the gratitude was for the warning about the drug. The other was for opening his eyes for a potential deceit from friendly-appearing examinees. It turned out to be a necessary awakening.

“Was there someone who warned you?” One of the other girls?

“Nope.”

A pause as Chuu had an innocent expression glued to her face.

“Did you taste the laxative and spit it out?” he decided to specify.

“Ha, pffft!.. No, my sense of taste is not that strong! I just saw others race to the bathroom.”

“You didn't drink it? Why then?” raised eyebrows Leorio.

“I just don’t take drinks from strangers on the deadliest exam in the world!”

Kurapika winced inwardly. Point. 

He was berating himself about that for a while, too, a resurgence of his naivete. It kept returning no matter how much time he spent in the outside world.

Did the attention and warmth he received from Gon and Leorio caused all his caution to fly away just like that? To the point that anyone friendly enough to him seemed like a decent person? 

He was sure he wasn’t that trusting after he left the village this time, refusing food and drink whenever offered by fellow travelers. Maybe homesickness was getting to him, desiring to see kindness in strangers when he should still be on a high alert.

He only had to wait a little more, until the end of the exam.

“Actually, I thought you tasted it and had poison immunity there for a second,” maneuvered Kurapika to the best of his abilities, “seeing how you aren’t tired. Thought you had an... Extended training.”

“Oh, no, I just have good stamina,” shot that down Chuu, not a shade of bragging in her voice.

“Good,” huffed under his breath Leorio.

“‘Good’ doesn’t encapsulate it well enough,” said Kurapika, not looking away from Chuu.

“Hmmm,” she pushed her tightened lips upwards. “Well, it is not out of the ordinary within my friends? I guess it would be...” she mumbled the last part, the ending almost inaudible. Kurapika did not read lips very well and missed how she ended the sentence. “Do you have a ‘good stamina’?” she earnestly asked Kurapika.

To his right, Leorio swore.

He stared at her for a second. Were standards of Chuu’s lifestyle too high or Kurapika’s too low? “Yes,” he slowly said. “I do. Anyone getting up to this moment has a good stamina.”

Chuu looked ahead of her, humming in thought. So did Kurapika.

Maybe from her point of view Leorio’s attire was absurd. Admittedly, he, too, thought that Leorio’s suit was a show of arrogance when they first met. Kurapika had to fight in a full suit, once, and the only thing he got out of that experience, besides the payment and ruined set of clothing, was knowledge that suits were cumbersome, only used for uniformity and to give air of respectability, usually unwarranted.

He opted for staying in his clan’s clothes for almost any kind of job since then, whether it was to be accomplished by himself or as a team, he did not care.

He listened into Leorio’s heavy breathing to his right and complete silence to his left. He looked from the corner of his eye at her, carefully watching her movements.

Was the freedom for activity the only reason for her own attire? He had doubts, leaning towards a combination of personal preference and masking her skill level. He had no evidence about the second part, but the fact that both of them underestimated her from the moment they saw made him wonder.

Again, if it was just a personal taste, then it did not mean anything, but if it was a distraction, then to what extent?

Chuu, as if feeling his attention, made eye contact, arching an eyebrow.

Kurapika looked away.

He was too hung up on the few minuscule bits of information and a bundle of suspicions. Moreover, it wasn't like Chuu was a unique case here.

There were really only two paths for Kurapika to take. He could either ignore her altogether and pursue the original plan of getting the Hunter license to get both privileges and job opportunities; or he could continue to be attentive of Chuu and, depending on his observations, try to forge a connection with her. Just in case available to him currently clean jobs weren't able to cover expenses for the operation.

The last contact he needed was to immoral bandits of unknown motives and principles. But if she was just a fighter or someone gone clean…

Regrettable, the option of asking her for her reason for taking the Exam was off the table, since he wouldn’t be able to offer an equal exchange of open answers that he wanted from her. Or tell if she lied.

The best-case scenario was that Chuu was an accomplished - but humane mercenary - , so that she was underworld-savvy, but did not pose danger to his clan in case she was to pry into his background or he slipped. Not much to say, a very unlikely scenario.

Such a type of mercenary was a rare and hard to distinguish kind of bird. He knew, he looked for those on his jobs.

And, basically, that was what Hunters are.

Which meant that the only thing he got, for the time being, were questions. It was unlikely she was someone who he would accept help from or come for advice, but it was not definite yet.

“How long do you have to train to get to such a level?” he faced her again.

“Well,” she chewed her lip. “I don’t remember, when I began, so, roughly, fifteen years?”

Kurapika frowned. Fifteen? 

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

He almost tripped once again in the same ten minutes.

No way. She did not look nineteen!

A realization hit him. She was the same age as Leorio.

He snuck a glance to the side, eyeing his friend. Leorio, in his turn, who also seemed to have the same thought, looked at Chuu and caught his gaze. Leorio scowled furiously at him and Kurapika snapped his attention back to the stairs.

“So. You started your training at four?” tried Kurapika, sounding more off balance than he thought he would. He was disoriented not only by her deceiving looks, but also the fact that any heavy training, that started at four, told him she was a child soldiers. 

“Something like that?” ignored his intonation Chuu. ”I said, I don’t remember for sure when it started. And, anyway, is not like I am actively training up to this day, there is no progress anymore. Or, at least, none that is noticeable.”

Kurapika opened mouth for his next question, but paused. He frowned, carefully phrasing what he wanted to ask.

“What’d’ya even need so much strength for?!” asked Leorio through gritted teeth.

Kurapika’s eyes went wide for a moment, lips pressing together. Way to-

“I am a mercenary.”

His head whipped towards her.

She just answered?

More importantly: what kind of mercenary was trained from age of four?

Was she from a clan of mercenaries? He knew those existed, came dangerously close with one of those previously, but knew nothing of its inner workings.

Would such a clan risk one of them getting right under the Association’s nose? In theory, if they fail, the member could be easily snatched away for questioning by any Crime Hunter. Not like Chuu was likely to fail, but still, would they?

He stopped that thought right there: it was only in the case she was currently telling the truth. While child soldier theory was nauseating, it was still on the table, as a most likely one.

Chuu gave him nothing to confirm any of his suspicions, she gave nothing to disprove anything. He squinted at her briefly.

Until he learned more, he couldn’t make any decisions.

He was content to let the conversation die out, when Leorio went up ahead and scoffed. “A mercenary!..”

Kurapika was about to turn and glare at him, but Chuu merely repeated sunnily. “Yep! Your friendly mercenary co-examinee!”

Leorio frowned, but, to Kurapika’s relief, abstained from any further comments.

---

“Light!” rang out a shout from the front. Chuu focused back ahead, raising her head. Indeed, they were reaching something, maybe even an exit! She hoped it was an exit. This tunnel was dreadfully bland and neither girls back down the stairs were any fun, currently, nor her ongoing company was any better, since they fell down into silence half an hour ago.

“Okay, boys. Leorio, Kurapika, thank you for your company, it was lovely. See you later,” she chirped and hastened her step, weaving between other examinees, wishing to be done with this tunnel.

She emerged into a dimmed sunlight a couple seconds later, leaving all others far behind. “Skyyy!” she screamed upward, bending her back with both arms thrown up, facing thick white fog. “Whoow!” she cheered at the top of her lungs, spooking an unseen flock of birds in the distance, that began to loudly flap their wings.

Staring at her, there were three people outside. Just as immaculate in his costume and mustache hairdo as he was in the start, hands clasped behind his back, Satotz was standing further down the hill, turning to her with both eyebrows high. Besides him, two young boys walked lower down the hill, themselves only recently having emerged from the tunnel. The white skateboard one and green juice kids finished the marathon first (she was fairly sure she overheard them calling each other as Gon and Killua). Gon waved at her as she started walking towards them, while Killua looked like he was torn between a suspicious squint and a scowl. Tough luck, buddy, she wanted a talking company and Gon seemed like someone who would deliver.

Not to mention that neither of them seemed tired at all, which was highly concerning, to say the least.

“So who won?” she asked, plopping down on the ground on the spot with enough grass. Gon, seeing her sit, did the same.

Opting to stay on his feet, Killua, deciding on his mien, scowled at her. “Eavesdropping is rude.”

“Mister Satotz said it was a draw,” responded Gon to her question somewhat sullenly, as Chuu seriously mouthed “It is” to Killua.

“Well, if it helps,” (“It doesn’t,” grumbled Killua), “you still were faster than any other contestant,” tried to cheer them up Chuu, but Gon groaned, crossing his legs and leaning back on his arms.

“But it is not the same! The loser had to pay for dinner, now we will just have to split a bill!” 

Chuu hummed in understanding. That was a real loss she could empathize, having partake in such contests a lot. God knows, there is nothing more bottomless than a child’s stomach who had violently arduous training daily.

“I don’t see any important structure or location here,” looked around Chuu. “Are we done with the first phase or?..”

“Mister Satotz said that there was more,” agreed Gon. Suddenly, his face lit up. Still sitting, he nearly bounced upright. “I’m Gon! This is Killua,” he motioned at the still standing kid, beaming.

She answered with her own bright smile. “I am Chuu! Nice to meet you two!” 

“You arrived here fast,” spoke up Killua, looking less unfriendly than before. Still disheveled in his attitude, but no longer glaring daggers. She made a glance at Gon before returning her attention to Killua. “Weren’t you far behind?”

“No, not as far as you think. Besides, you have no room to talk!” Chuu sent them a meaningful look. “Neither of you were even slightly out of breath.”

Gon laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“It was easy,” eyed her Killua. ”I heard the Hunter Exam was supposed to be difficult, but a lazy jog is hardly challenging.”

“Give them a benefit of the doubt, most people here weren’t trained from a young age,” reprimanded him Chuu. In the corner of her eye, Gon looked clueless, but she did not exclude him faking the innocence. Killua was a trained one for sure. His was too wary of her for anything else. Gon could’ve been just incredibly talented, prodigy, even, or a potentially powerful enhancer, just like; she smiled brightly at Killua. 

He mirrored her expression. “Of course. They are just regular people, after all.”

Whatever he thought something of her previously, if he paid her any attention at all, was unimportant. After her sudden burst of speed at the end of the tunnel, knowing she was nowhere near them, she was no longer part of the background for him.

Good.

Amidst all applicants pouring out of the tunnel, two sets of footsteps approached them. She did not look at them, but Gon’s face lit up and he jumped to his feet, greeting them.

“Oh no, not you again,” grumbled Leorio, seeing her in his friend’s company. She looked at them, catching Kurapika sending a stern glare at the older one.

She winked at both of the teenagers, but Leorio was no longer looking at her, hands propped on his knees, catching his breath, and Kurapika was, once again, somewhere in his thoughts.

Well, fine with her. Behind him, a familiar trio emerged and Chuu enthusiastically waved to them, beckoning.