The boat slowly docked at the island's shore. All the examinees remained onboard, waiting.
A staff member holding a timer called out every two minutes, signaling the next person to disembark. This wasn't for show—it was to prevent the exam from ending the moment it began.
Those two minutes were a buffer. Enough time for someone to put distance between themselves and others—whether to stalk their target, or to make sure they didn't become one.
The order of entering the island followed the draw order. Hyūga Akira had drawn last, so naturally, he would be the last to go ashore.
Hisoka and Illumi, who had drawn early, were already on the island.
"Two minutes are up. Contestant number thirteen, please proceed."
As the staff continued announcing, one examinee after another stepped onto the island.
There were twenty-four people left in the fourth phase. Akira had effectively taken Tonpa's original slot.
"I wonder if I'm Kurapika's target," Akira muttered, glancing down at his badge.
He hadn't bothered hiding it.
Most people, once they realized targets were determined by badge numbers, immediately concealed theirs. But some, confident in their strength, didn't care at all.
Hisoka.
Illumi.
Killua.
And then there was the odd one out—Gon.
Whether it was protagonist brain or genuine carelessness, Gon hadn't hidden his badge either. Worse, ever since the draw, his eyes kept drifting toward Hisoka. Anyone with half a brain could guess who his target was.
Akira could already imagine how thrilled Hisoka must be.
"…What a mess," Akira sighed. "Main characters really are something else."
One by one, the remaining examinees were called.
Soon, the deck was empty.
"Two minutes are up. Contestant number twenty-four, please enter the island."
Akira slid his hands into his pockets and walked across the wooden bridge toward the island. His Byakugan swept the surroundings.
Kurapika was nowhere to be seen.
Instead—
He spotted Hanzo.
"So I'm Hanzo's target, huh?"
Akira stroked his chin, acting as if he'd noticed nothing, and continued forward.
Leorio was already outside his Byakugan's range.
Meanwhile, Hanzo—who clearly thought his concealment flawless—kept pace from the treetops, shadowing Akira.
"At least it's not Hisoka or Illumi," Akira thought.
He glanced up at the sky. The sun's glare forced him to squint slightly.
And in that instant—
Hanzo dropped from the trees, a black blur lunging straight for Akira's chest.
"Got him!"
Bang!
Smoke erupted.
Hanzo's hand closed around… wood.
He froze, staring at the log in his grasp. His body reacted instantly—he twisted, trying to leap back into the trees.
Too late.
Akira was already above him.
Looking down calmly, Akira kicked him straight out of the air.
Hanzo used the force to flip backward, landing heavily on the ground.
He stared at Akira in disbelief.
"How did you notice me?"
He had suppressed his presence completely. His gaze hadn't lingered on Akira for more than a heartbeat. He hadn't released even a trace of killing intent.
There was no reason he should've been detected.
"You guess," Akira replied lightly as he hopped down from the tree. "Your target's my badge, right?"
Hanzo clenched his jaw.
That concealment technique worked on almost everyone—but Akira's Byakugan didn't care whether Hanzo had chakra or nen. Transparency was transparency.
Hanzo raised both hands slightly.
"My target was your badge. But I'm giving up. I'll just collect three other badges instead."
After that brief exchange, he already knew—they weren't on the same level.
Unlike Gon, Hanzo wasn't stubborn enough to die for pride. Compared to stealing three badges from others, stealing one from Akira was far riskier.
He edged backward cautiously, eyes never leaving Akira.
"Hey," Akira said, rolling his wrist. "Your name's Hanzo, right?"
Hanzo paused, then nodded. "I think I'm the only Hanzo here."
Akira grinned.
"Perfect. I've been having issues lately with people named Hanzo."
A chill ran down Hanzo's spine.
Akira vanished forward.
With no choice, Hanzo raised his guard and engaged.
After only a few exchanges, Hanzo realized something unsettling—their fighting styles were eerily similar.
Pure assassination tactics. Every movement aimed to kill.
"You're a ninja too," Hanzo said, dodging narrowly. "Which organization are you from?"
In this world, ninja belonged to secretive organizations—hidden groups, each aware of the others' existence. They weren't exactly allies or enemies, but information circulated.
Yet this man… Hanzo had nothing on him.
Shuriken. Movement. Killing intent.
There was no doubt now.
Akira was a ninja.
"Got anything else?" Akira's speed suddenly spiked. His palm slammed into Hanzo's chest, blasting him backward.
"I don't care what group you're from," Akira continued calmly. "Let me see what this world's ninja can really do."
He wanted more than just taijutsu.
Hanzo had no intention of continuing.
Midair, he twisted and landed cleanly.
Akira's bronze blade appeared in his hand, flames licking along its edge.
"Otherwise," Akira said softly, "die here."
Hanzo's killing intent flared in response—but after reassessing the gap between them, he made his decision.
He hurled a pellet to the ground.
Bang!
Thick smoke exploded outward, engulfing the area.
Hanzo's presence vanished completely.
The move was meant to create the illusion of a counterattack—when in reality, it was a clean retreat.
Unfortunately for him—
This wasn't an opponent who relied on normal senses.
Smoke without chakra or nen was meaningless before the Byakugan.
Akira saw Hanzo's retreat clearly.
His arm flicked.
Several shuriken tore through the fog.
Hanzo sensed danger and rolled, barely avoiding them.
But Akira was already there.
The flaming blade cut downward.
Hanzo's pupils shrank. His body twisted unnaturally, bending in ways that barely made sense—just enough to avoid the slash.
His sleeve snapped open. A hidden blade shot out toward Akira.
Akira sidestepped and countered with a kick.
Hanzo blocked with his left arm—
Crack.
He was sent flying.
This time, he couldn't stabilize. He slammed into the ground, rolled, and forced himself upright, kneeling on one knee.
His left arm hung limply.
Broken.
Akira smiled brightly as he approached.
"So," he asked pleasantly,
"Got any more ways to resist, Hanzo?"
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