New Challenge

Hisoka's smile twisted into something almost maniacal as he flicked his wrist, unleashing a flurry of sharpened cards at Gojo. The cards whizzed through the air with lethal precision, but Gojo barely blinked. With the back of his hands, he deflected each card effortlessly, moving with such speed that the cards clattered to the ground in harmless pieces.

But Hisoka was already on the move, using the card barrage as a distraction. In a split second, he closed the distance, his fist charged with aura, using Ko, aiming a powerful punch directly at Gojo's midsection. Gojo's eyes narrowed, sensing the attack coming; he slipped under the punch with fluid grace, moving like water. In a blink, Gojo countered with a vicious hook, landing cleanly on Hisoka's side and sending him flying up into the air.

Hisoka's body twisted in mid-air, legs snapping out in a rapid kick toward Gojo's head. But Gojo slipped past the kick with a slight tilt, his movement so precise it seemed almost like a dance. Hisoka landed back on his feet, staggering slightly as he regained his balance, a look of surprise crossing his face.

And then, he laughed—a wild, gleeful sound that echoed through the space. "Yes! This is what I've been waiting for!" Hisoka roared, his voice filled with exhilaration. Without a moment's hesitation, he charged at Gojo again, fists blazing with aura.

Gojo met Hisoka head-on, their movements a blur of rapid strikes and counters. Hisoka's attacks came fast, with inhuman acrobatic movements, each punch and kick laced with a deadly aura. But Gojo's defence held firm; his movements were minimal yet perfectly timed, dodging Hisoka's blows with millimetre precision. Each time Hisoka's fist or foot came close, Gojo was already there, blocking, deflecting, or slipping past with effortless ease.

The two moved like blurs, exchanging blows in a whirlwind of speed and power. Gojo's expression remained calm, almost bored, his eyes tracking every twitch of Hisoka's muscles. Hisoka, on the other hand, was grinning wildly, his eyes alight with the thrill of the fight. He pressed harder, throwing more complex combinations, but Gojo continued to evade, his defence seemingly unbreakable.

With each exchange, Hisoka's laughter grew louder, more unhinged, feeding off the challenge before him. "Yes! More! Show me more!" Hisoka shouted, his voice electric with anticipation.

Gojo smirked, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Is that all you've got, Hisoka? I expected more from you," he taunted, his voice as calm and confident as ever.

Hisoka's grin only widened, his eyes narrowing with manic glee. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he promised, his aura flaring as he prepared for the next round. But Gojo remained steady, his aura a quiet storm, controlled and unyielding.

The tension hung heavy in the air, despite his outward appearance, Gojo's mind raced, his thoughts a whirlwind of infinite calculations and possibilities. With his Six Eyes active, the flow of aura and the mechanics of Nen unfold before him like an intricate web of interconnected shapes of a completed puzzle. In his mind he shifted through his vast knowledge of non-innate cursed techniques, mentally categorizing and translating them into Nen-based counterparts with the newfound data he's gathered from Hisoka.

"Well," Hisoka said, his voice dripping with anticipation, "why don't you show me your Hatsu, then? There should be more to those eyes. Let's see what kind of tricks you've got hidden up your sleeve."

Gojo remained still, the bright blue of his eyes glowing with a calm but fierce determination.

'What Hatsu? Why does he think it has something to do with the Six Eyes? Is it like an innate cursed technique? Like the one those two used?'

"I don't know what a Hatsu exactly is," he admitted, tone unbothered by the lack of a specific answer. "I haven't developed even one yet, but it won't matter. I don't need this Hatsu to beat you."

'If this Hatsu is just like an innate technique. There have been jujutsu sorcerers who have made it to Grade 1 without any Innate techniques after all and I know all their tricks. Even if the Six Eyes haven't fully adapted to this aura-energy it's good enough.'

Hisoka's grin faltered, and a flicker of disappointment crossed his face. The playfulness in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something colder, more calculating. He withdrew his aura abruptly, retracting his En in one smooth motion until it clung close to his body, the pressure in the air easing as his presence diminished.

"What a pity," Hisoka sighed. "An unripe fruit… I only enjoy fruits at their peak, when they're juicy and bursting with flavour." He tilted his head, the disappointment evident as he regarded Gojo with a mix of intrigue and disdain. "You have potential, Gojo, but right now, you're just not… ripe enough."

Gojo smirked in amusement at Hisoka's words, sensing the faint trace of disappointment in his voice as he was called an unripe fruit. "An unripe fruit, huh?" Gojo repeated, his tone laced with amusement. "I don't care. I've still managed to keep up with you, haven't I?"

Hisoka's expression briefly flickered with a hint of frustration before he quickly regained his composure. "Perhaps I am holding back," Hisoka replied, his tone more measured. "But you're still not at your full potential, Gojo. You could be so much more."

Gojo's eyes narrowed, sensing that Hisoka was about to shift the conversation. "And what exactly are you getting at?" Gojo asked, his voice calm, but the sharpness in his tone made it clear he was in control.

Hisoka's predatory grin returned, though less confident than before. "I'm offering you a deal," Hisoka began, trying to sound as though he still had the upper hand. "I'll tell you everything about Hatsu—how to find its nature, how to develop it into nen ability—"

Gojo interrupted his voice firm. "I honestly don't need you to tell me how to find or develop this Hatsu," he said, cutting through Hisoka's proposition. "I'm figuring it out just fine on my own. But if you're offering information, I might be willing to listen."

'If Hatsu is anything like Innate cursed techniques, mine is probably going to be Limitless, maybe also Six Eyes if that counts as Hatsu. How about both?'

Hisoka's grin faltered, realizing that Gojo wasn't going to be easily manipulated.

"Fine," Hisoka said, adjusting his tone. "But in exchange, I want a real fight. Anywhere, anytime, once you've fully developed your Hatsu."

Gojo shrugged, unimpressed. "I'm always ready for a fight, even right now, Hisoka. I don't need to develop some special Hatsu just to beat you."

Hisoka's expression darkened slightly, his smile losing its edge. "But you might regret saying that," Hisoka warned, though it was clear he was no longer in control of the conversation.

Gojo's eyes gleamed as he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. "You've been underestimating me too much for my liking. I'll fight you, with or without a Hatsu, right now. And if you survive I'll make sure you remember Satoru Gojo for the remainder of your life."

Hisoka took a step back, his grin now looking more forced than confident. "Very well," Hisoka conceded, his voice quieter than before. "But I'll hold you to that."

Gojo just laughs, picking up Leorio's unconscious body from the ground on his shoulder. "Do that. And when the time comes to cash in on the deal, don't be surprised if I surpass your expectations by an infinite margin."

Hisoka, still grinning from the exhilaration of their clash, tilted his head curiously as he watched Gojo. "So, how do you plan to find your way out of here?" Hisoka asked, his voice dripping with a mix of genuine curiosity and teasing mockery. "We could talk more in the next phase exam location. I could help, you know. Maybe show you a shortcut, or a little trick or two…"

Gojo didn't respond. He simply walked over to Leorio's unconscious body, hoisting him up with ease. Hisoka's grin faltered slightly, replaced by a look of mild disappointment. He had expected more banter, maybe even a bit of desperation. Instead, Gojo ignored him completely, his focus already elsewhere.

Gojo's eyes, sharp and piercing, scanned the foggy surroundings. The mist was thick, obscuring everything beyond a few feet, but it didn't seem to bother him. His gaze cut through the fog like a blade, each detail registering in his mind.

As he started walking, Leorio slung over his shoulder, Gojo's thoughts were methodical, precise. Ever since he'd stepped into this place, his mind had been mapping it out, piece by piece. Every twist, every turn, every shift in the terrain was logged and analyzed, forming a mental blueprint of the labyrinth around him.

He wasn't just relying on sight. Gojo knew that a group as large as the one they'd been part of wouldn't move through this place without leaving some sort of trace. Footprints, disturbed foliage, the faint scent of sweat and fear in the air—it all came together in his mind, guiding him toward the most likely route they would have taken.

Hisoka watched him go, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. "You're no fun, Gojo," he called out, his tone light but with an edge of frustration. "Running off without even a goodbye?"

But Gojo didn't look back. His pace was steady and purposeful, his mind focused on the task at hand. He had already calculated the most probable path the group would have taken, piecing together the clues left behind. The subtle signs, almost invisible to anyone else in this fog, were as clear as a sunny day to him.

The fog that might have disoriented others was nothing more than a minor obstacle for Gojo. With each step, he moved closer to the exit, his mind already several steps ahead, plotting the quickest route. Leorio's weight was barely a concern; his focus was on ensuring they caught up with the group as quickly as possible.

Hisoka, watching from a distance, chuckled softly to himself. "So that's how it is," he muttered, a glint of interest still lingering in his eyes. "I suppose we'll see each other again, Gojo. When you're ready for a real challenge."

With that, Hisoka turned and disappeared into the mist, his presence fading like a shadow. But Gojo didn't spare him a second thought. His path was clear, and he had no intention of letting anything—or anyone—distract him from it.

Ahead, he spotted what appeared to be a baby lying on the ground, small and vulnerable, its cries echoing in the eerie silence. A snake, slender and sinuous, slithered toward the infant, its scales glistening ominously in the dim light. Gojo's gaze sharpened, his Six Eyes taking in the scene with cold clarity.

Gojo didn't even pause. He kept his stride, his eyes fixed ahead, his mind undistracted by the illusion. As he approached, the snake coiled, ready to strike, its head rearing back in anticipation. Without breaking his pace, Gojo's foot came down hard. He stomped the snake's head with precision, crushing it into the ground. The illusion shattered instantly—the crying got louder, and the infant-shaped serpent tail started twitching. Gojo didn't look back.

It didn't take long for him to catch up with the rest. The group of participants stumbled into a clearing, their exhausted bodies slumping to the ground, some collapsing in relief, others breaking down in tears over the horrors they had witnessed. The deaths of their fellow competitors weighed heavily on them, each life lost in a horrifying swamp etched into their memories. In the middle of the clearing stood a large building, its presence like a silent guardian over the weary contestants. Some huddled together, others clutched at their heads, overwhelmed by the shock of the journey.

"I didn't expect any of this."

"He is just next to me... Then the ground broke... He and others just swallowed."

"The pre-examiners were right. Many aren't just built for this. Nobody is."

"I barely made it alive. What's next?!"

Pokkle scanned the crowd, eyes darting in every direction as he searched for familiar faces. The two were with him in the scuffle with Hisoka nowhere to be found, and a pang of worry tightened in his chest

Anita's eyes were darting around with creeping hopelessness. "Kurapika..."

Nearby, Hanzo glanced over at Killua, his expression grim. "They should've known better than to mess with that murder clown," he muttered, folding his arms. "It's a miracle if they made it out at all."

Just as Hanzo's words hung in the air, a rustling noise came from the treeline. Gon and Kurapika suddenly burst out, breathless but alive, their eyes wide with urgency. They scanned the clearing, their gazes locking onto a familiar sight: Gojo, standing amidst the crowd, conversing with Hisoka. The sight of them together sent a jolt of suspicion through Gon and Kurapika.

"What are they doing?" Kurapika whispered, unease creeping into his voice. They watched as Hisoka, with his usual unsettling smile, turned and pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing. Gon and Kurapika followed his gesture, spotting Leorio's unconscious form propped against the trunk.

"Leorio!" Gon exclaimed, rushing over with Kurapika right behind him. They knelt beside their friend, shaking him gently until he groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

Leorio blinked up at them, his face bruised and his expression dazed. "What… happened?" he mumbled, touching his aching head. "I don't remember anything…"

Bruises covered his body, and he winced as he tried to move, pain coursing through every limb. Kurapika frowned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back at Gojo and Hisoka, the two standing as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Just then Anita rushed over him and hugged him tightly. "You are okay... For a moment... I thought... I thought."

Kurapika was caught red faced as both Gon and Leorio threw him two different kinds of akward looks, one of confusion and another hinting something.

Then Killua approached Gon breaking from the crowd, his face a mixture of relief and curiosity. "How did you make it out?" he asked, his voice low.

Gon looked up, his expression earnest. "I followed Leorio's scent," he said simply. "The mix of his sweat and that cologne he wears… and the fact he hasn't showered in two days."

Killua raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "You too are not normal," he muttered, glancing back at the crowd. Hisoka's eyes were still on them, a twisted smile playing on his lips. Gojo stood beside him, unreadable as always, but something in his posture suggested that whatever had happened between them was far from over.

Just then the large doors of the building groaned open, revealing the next phase of the exam. Statoz, the imposing examiner, stepped to the side, his stern gaze sweeping over the weary and anxious faces of the 149 remaining applicants.

"Congratulations to all of you who have made it this far," Statoz declared, his voice echoing with authority. "You've passed the trials of survival and perseverance. Now, the real challenge begins. Gather up."

As he spoke, the applicants' eyes were drawn to the figures being revealed from behind the door. The resting applicants soon joined the others, and so did Gon, Kurapika, Killua and Leorio.

Seated comfortably on a couch was a woman who exuded an air of casual confidence. Her pink hair was styled into five neat top knots, and she wore a black bikini top, a mesh shirt draped over it, and daisy duke denim shorts. Sheathed behind her waist were a pair of gleaming chef's knives. Her eyes held a sharp glint, and her posture suggested she was both relaxed and ready for action.

Standing behind her was a mountainlike, large and morbidly obese man. His short black hair and rolls under his chin were unmistakable, and he wore a long-sleeved black shirt which upturned by his tank of a pot belly, blue jeans, and emblazoned with the word "BUTA," a word for "PIG," emphasizing his imposing presence even more.

Gojo's Six Eyes scanned them. 'These two are also nen users. That fat guy's aura is too strangely contained and more concentrated around the fatty regions of the body, and the woman's hair isn't even fully biological. They are aura constructs just like Fenwick's harpoon."

Statoz gestured towards the duo, his tone carrying a hint of formality mixed with respect. "Allow me to introduce these two formidable hunters, Menchi and Buhara. They will be in charge of this phase of your exam."

Menchi's eyes scanned the crowd with a discerning gaze. She nodded slightly, her expression a mix of amusement and focus. Butahara, on the other hand, looked over the applicants with an air of indifference, his sheer size and presence enough to make an impression.

Statoz continued, "You will need to impress them with your skills, resourcefulness, and determination. Their evaluation will be rigorous, so be prepared to showcase your abilities in ways you haven't before."

With that, Statoz gave one last approving nod and then turned on his heel, walking away with his imposing gait.

Menchi rose from the couch, a sly smile playing on her lips as she looked over the crowd of applicants. She tossed her head, sending the five top knots of her hair bouncing, then placed her hands on her hips, her knives glinting menacingly behind her.

"Alright, listen up!" Menchi's voice rang out, sharp and confident. "I'm Menchi, and this is Buahara. We're Gourmet Hunters, and we'll be judging you in this phase of the exam."

A murmur spread through the crowd, with several applicants exchanging puzzled looks. The term "Gourmet Hunters" clearly didn't resonate with everyone, and confusion rippled through the ranks. Some of the more seasoned applicants nodded knowingly, but others whispered among themselves, eyebrows raised.

Kurapika stepped forward, his calm demeanour a contrast to the uneasy whispers around him. He adjusted his cloak, casting a thoughtful glance at Menchi and Butahara before addressing the group. "Gourmet Hunters," he began, his voice measured and precise, "are a type of Hunter who travels the world in search of rare cuisine and exotic foodstuffs. Their goal is to find and collect rare ingredients that are typically only obtainable in remote and inhospitable places."

The crowd quieted, all eyes turning to Kurapika as he continued. "They are not just hunters; they are connoisseurs of culinary culture, with extensive knowledge of related techniques. They often have well-developed and demanding palates and a voracious appetite for new dining experiences. Many Gourmet Hunters are world-class chefs themselves, dedicated to creating new delicacies and dishes that reflect their artistry and sophistication. Their focus is on bringing to life the flavours of the rare ingredients they've obtained, using new and creative cooking techniques."

He paused, letting the information sink in, and then added, "Additionally, Gourmet Hunters are frequently tasked with chasing and capturing poachers, protecting the rare species and environments where they source their ingredients."

Kurapika's explanation seemed to ease some of the confusion, though the applicants still looked apprehensive. Speculation quickly took over, with theories buzzing about what kind of test the Gourmet Hunters would administer. The crowd buzzed with guesses—capturing rare animals, foraging for ingredients, maybe even cooking a meal.

Menchi, who had been listening with a bemused smile, clapped her hands once to regain everyone's attention. "Smart guesses!" she said, eyeing the crowd with a mixture of amusement and challenge. "Since you all seem so curious, let's not waste any more time. Your next test is exactly what you think it is—cooking!"

A wave of surprise, excitement, and anxiety swept through the group. Some applicants grinned, ready to show off their culinary skills, while others exchanged uneasy glances, clearly out of their depth.

As Menchi laid out the challenge, the room erupted into a cacophony of protests. Todo the Wrestler, a towering figure with rippling muscles, stepped forward, his voice booming above the crowd. "This is ridiculous!" he shouted his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "Taste is subjective! How can you judge us on something as personal as that? And what does cooking have to do with being a Hunter, anyway? Not all of us are here to become Gourmet Hunters!"

A murmur of agreement swept through the room. Others joined in, voicing their objections, and pointing out the absurdity of the test. "We just survived a murderous swamp, fighting off creatures and navigating through deadly terrain," one applicant argued. "And now you want us to cook? This has nothing to do with survival skills or hunting prowess!"

Menchi's smile thinned, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the complaints. She held up a hand, silencing the crowd. "If you don't like the test," she said coolly, "then you're free to leave. No one's forcing you to stay."

The group fell silent. A few applicants shuffled awkwardly, but no one moved to leave. Menchi's eyes swept over them, a hint of satisfaction in her expression as the grumbling died down.

She took a deep breath, then continued in a more composed tone. "This phase of the exam is in two parts. First, you'll need to cook something that satisfies Buhara. He needs to like it, and it needs to fill him up. After that, you'll do the same for me, but only the dishes I approve will pass. The test ends when we're both full."

The group exchanged worried glances, the challenge suddenly seeming far more daunting. Hanzo, a bald, agile ninja known for his sharBuharirvations, spoke up. "Buhara looks like he could eat a lot," he said, nodding toward the massive man. "But Menchi… she's not going to need as much to be full. This test could cut the numbers significantly."

Hanzo turned his gaze to Menchi, his brow furrowing. "What are we supposed to cook first?"

Menchi's smile returned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "For your first task, you'll be hunting the ferocious, invasive boar species known as the Great Stamp," she announced. "Their territory is just beyond this building, not far from here."

She gestured toward the doors behind her, which led out into the wilderness. "Once you've captured a Great Stamp, you'll need to roast it whole. We've prepared charcoal pits in a nearby clearing for you to use. It's not just about cooking, it's about using your skills as a Hunter to secure your ingredients and prepare them to the highest standards."

With that, Menchi and Buhara turned, leading the way toward the path that would open into the next phase of the exam. The crowd of applicants followed, nerves and determination etched on their faces, ready to tackle whatever lay ahead.