The tunnel echoed with footsteps.
Satotz was already deep ahead, coat flaring with every long stride. The crowd of examinees thundered behind him in a loose, ragged pack. Some sprinted. Some jogged. Many were already gasping for air.
Renzo ran in silence, just behind Gon and Kurapika. The pace didn't bother him. The breathwork Jack taught him years ago made it feel like meditation in motion.
"In for four, out for six," Renzo whispered without turning.
Behind him, Leorio let out a strangled breath. "I know," he wheezed. "I'm doing it."
Renzo didn't reply. Leorio was managing. Barely. But managing.
Gon was grinning like this was fun. He ran as if the ground itself was alive, body light, eyes scanning with wonder. Kurapika ran like a soldier—focused, efficient, reading the room. And Renzo? He ran as a practitioner. As someone who had been told for years: Walk through life like it's training. Breathe like you're surviving.
Hours passed.
The tunnel bent slightly, and the crowd began to thin. Some slowed down. Others fell out completely, sitting against walls, legs cramped. The air grew damp. Drops of condensation tapped against the stone floor in slow rhythm.
Then, the pressure shifted.
Renzo felt it like a chill under his skin.
It wasn't sound. It wasn't light. It was presence.
He turned his head slightly—and saw him.
Hisoka.
He wasn't running. He was walking, hands at his sides, head tilted in amusement. The space around him felt wrong. Not visually. Not physically. Spiritually.
Hisoka's aura bloomed outward. Not uncontrolled, but purposefully cruel. It pressed down on the crowd like fog thick with needles.
Applicants near him recoiled. Some stumbled. One threw up.
Renzo didn't stumble.
His body moved on its own.
His Ten collapsed, replaced by something raw. His arms raised, forming a defensive stance—unfamiliar, fast, lethal.
It didn't belong to Jack's teaching. It didn't belong to now.
It belonged to someone Renzo had been before.
His heart pounded. A flash of vision cut through his mind.
A shadowed corridor.A body crumpled. Blood on his hands.A woman's voice—scared, trembling—"You said you'd never lose control again…"
Renzo's stomach turned.
He dropped his arms, forcibly relaxed his jaw. He rebuilt his Ten, breath hitching slightly. His aura locked down. He pushed the stance back down into the dark corner it had come from.
Not here. Not now.
And yet—Hisoka had already noticed.
Their eyes met across the tunnel.
Hisoka didn't smile wider. He didn't change at all. That was worse.
He simply tilted his head, as if reading a particularly curious book.
Then he turned away, humming as he continued forward.
The pressure passed.
Kurapika glanced at Renzo. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Renzo said. "Just… a little wind shift."
Kurapika didn't push. Gon glanced back too, sensing something, but smiled anyway. "Still doing okay?"
Renzo nodded. "Better than okay."
Leorio cursed behind them. "I'm dying, but thanks for asking."
Renzo allowed himself the smallest smile. He focused back on his footing. One step. Then another.
The run continued.
And Renzo ran not just forward, but inward—toward something buried and breaking free.