Chapter 42 – The Rookie Crusher's New Job
"Mr. Tonpa," Osren said suddenly, his voice earnest and polite, "could I trouble you for a favor? Please—just this once, give me some face. We don't have much distance left, but I'm at my limit. Would you mind… carrying me for a bit?"
He smiled sincerely, eyes glinting with perfect innocence. "I know you really care about rookies like us. You've always helped those in need. And with your stamina, it should be no problem at all."
Tonpa froze.
This kid… really thinks I'm a saint, huh?
His first instinct was to refuse—outright. But then a thought crept in.
No. Wait. Maybe this is an opportunity.
That suspicious little brat had ruined his plans more than once already. If he carried him, he could observe him up close—study his mannerisms, his tricks, maybe figure out why things kept going his way.
And besides, the exam wasn't far from ending. There'd be no better chance to investigate discreetly.
Hah. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
His chest swelled with renewed pride.
I'll carry him, sure—and at the same time, remind everyone that Tonpa, the eternal examinee, still has pride, stamina, and skill! A legend in the making!
How could he possibly refuse such a stage?
"Alright then," Tonpa said with an overly modest chuckle. "Since you put it that way, I can't just ignore you. Come on, climb up."
"Thank you, Mr. Tonpa." Osren didn't hesitate for a second—he hopped right onto Tonpa's back, settling in comfortably as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Tonpa grunted, slightly off balance at first, but quickly steadied himself.
---
"Osren, do you need me to help instead?" Gon asked worriedly, jogging alongside them.
Killua frowned and sidled closer too, silently watching. He didn't say anything, but the intent was there—his first clumsy attempt at showing concern for someone else.
Of course, carrying another human being was out of the question. Killua had never learned how to do that.
"No need," Osren said quickly, waving one hand. "Mr. Tonpa is a kind and generous man. He insists on helping. And with that kind of stamina, he definitely doesn't need assistance."
Tonpa gave a big, fake smile. "Ha ha, that's right, Gon. I've got plenty of strength to spare. Don't worry about a thing."
Gon nodded hesitantly, still unconvinced, but chose to stay close anyway—just in case.
---
Watching the scene unfold, Leorio muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Wait… you can do that?
How the hell does he have that much face power?
Leorio couldn't help imagining—
If I had that kind of influence, I wouldn't even need to take this exam. I'd just walk up to the examiner, flash a grin, and ask for a Hunter License directly.
Finally, he sighed deeply and concluded aloud, "Osren… really is a good kid."
If Osren had heard that, he probably would've choked.
A good kid? Please. If I could get my hands on a few rare ingredients and cook something that'd make the examiner cry tears of joy, I'd have skipped this whole endurance test hours ago.
But for now, Osren just smiled serenely from Tonpa's back, while the self-proclaimed "Rookie Crusher" trudged onward—unknowingly carrying not just a boy, but the slow dismantling of his own reputation.
Of course, part of the reason Osren never took shortcuts was because he didn't want to miss the fun along the way.
Every detour, every ridiculous encounter—those were the Hunter Exam's real rewards.
"Now this is getting interesting," Killua said with a grin. "Finally, something not boring."
For him, the whole exam had been little more than a game. But watching Tonpa—end up willingly helping someone? Yeah, this trip had been worth it.
---
Meanwhile, Kurapika was having an existential crisis.
"Wait… was I wrong about him?" he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple. "Could Tonpa actually be… a good person?"
He watched the older man jog along with Osren on his back, no complaints, no hesitation. The image was almost wholesome.
It didn't fit.
Everything Kurapika knew told him that no seasoned Hunter candidate would voluntarily help a rival during an exam. Hunters were forged in hardship, not charity.
Yet here Tonpa was—carrying a rookie on his back without so much as a sigh.
Did I misjudge him completely?
Maybe he really was… "Good Guy Tonpa."
In fact, Kurapika mused half-ironically, if there were ever a "Top 10 Most Touching Moments in Hunter History" award, Tonpa deserved a nomination.
---
"Alright then, let's move," Tonpa said, adjusting Osren on his back and motioning for the group to keep running.
Osren was light—small frame, still a boy—and Tonpa had done this exam thirty times. Carrying him barely slowed his pace.
"Say, Osren," Tonpa started after a while, trying to sound casual, "you don't look like the athletic type. The exam's all about endurance. How do you usually train?"
Osren yawned softly, voice lazy but honest. "I don't really train. I just go into the forest with Gon, play with animals, make friends with them… and eat."
"...Eat?" Tonpa blinked.
"Yeah. Eat."
That was all. Play and eat.
Tonpa nearly laughed. Typical kid.
So that's all there was behind this mysterious aura? Just a hungry, playful brat?
He relaxed a little, tension fading from his shoulders. So that's it. Nothing special. Next time, I'll figure out how to crush them all properly.
Convinced he'd uncovered the truth, Tonpa stopped prying and focused on keeping pace with the main group.
---
As for Osren—he simply nestled more comfortably on Tonpa's back, closed his eyes, and began to rest.
He wasn't slacking off; he was conserving energy.
The Swindler's Swamp (Milsy Wetlands) lay ahead, and that place would be far more dangerous than any endurance run.
If he wanted to pull off what came next, he needed to be fully recharged.
Still, he kept a sliver of awareness trained on his teammates—Gon, Killua, Kurapika, and Leorio—just in case something happened.
The rest of him slipped into a light, meditative state, recovering strength. His body, honed through "Face Fruit" training, would come out of this even tougher than before.
---
Thud, thud, thud…
The rhythmic pounding of countless footsteps echoed through the tunnel.
Everyone was pushing themselves to the limit.
But the closer they drew to the end, the more bodies began to fall behind.
Satotz's pace hadn't changed—his legs still moved at the same steady rhythm—but his stride had grown longer and longer, stretching the distance like a rubber band.
More and more contestants dropped out.
And the fewer remained, the clearer it became—
the finish line was near.
---
"Huff… huff… huff…"
Leorio's breath came in ragged bursts, like an overworked ox.
He'd refused the skateboard earlier, and now every step was powered purely by will.
His body had already gone beyond exhaustion; he was running on sheer determination alone.
Sweat drenched his clothes. His vision blurred. His legs felt like lead.
Still, he pushed on.
"Just a little more, Leorio," Osren called from Tonpa's back, voice steady and reassuring.
"Got it… I know," Leorio gasped out between breaths.
Knowing the end was near gave him a final surge of relief and strength.
Because giving up now—after all that noise about doing it himself—
would've been the one thing his pride couldn't bear.