The journey back to Ryujinshima was blessedly, almost anticlimactically, uneventful. The long airship flight across continents, the subsequent ferry connecting mainland Jappon to our smaller archipelago – it all passed in a comfortable blur, lacking the constant tension and looming uncertainty that had permeated the outward trip. I spent much of the travel observing the world from the windows, reviewing the exam phases in my mind, and occasionally pulling out the smooth, cool Hunter License to turn it over in my fingers, the tangible proof of my new status. The cost of the tickets, however, printed clearly on the stub I'd held onto, served as a stark reminder that my new license, while granting immense access and potential, didn't automatically provide the substantial funds needed to fully utilize that access. Alright, I thought, tucking the stub away. Earning money just shot up the priority list.
Stepping off the ferry onto the familiar worn wooden planks of our island dock, the scent of salty air mixed with the sharp, clean smell of pine trees and the faint, comforting aroma of Dad's woodworking from the distance filled my lungs. Home. It settled deep within me, a profound sense of peace and belonging after the intensity of the past few days.
As I walked the well-worn path leading towards our house, backpack slung over my shoulder, my eyes fixed on the familiar shape of the roofline appearing through the trees, the front door burst open. Mom rushed out, her face initially etched with the deep, familiar lines of worry that instantly melted into overwhelming, tearful relief upon seeing me.
"Kess! You're back!" She didn't hesitate, enveloping me in a tight, fierce hug, holding on as if afraid I'd vanish if she let go. Her body trembled slightly against mine, and I felt the warmth of her tears wetting my shoulder. "Oh, Kess, I was so worried, every single day you were gone! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did you… did you pass?" Her voice was thick with emotion, her eyes searching my face anxiously as she finally pulled back slightly, keeping her hands on my shoulders.
I returned the hug, squeezing her tightly, feeling the warmth and genuine love radiating from her, a stark contrast to the cold calculations and guarded interactions of the exam. "I'm okay, Mom," I reassured her, pulling back slightly more so she could see I was unharmed, offering a gentle smile. "Really. Not a scratch." I fumbled in the inner pocket of my satchel, my fingers closing around the smooth plastic card, and produced the laminated proof. "And yes…" I held it up for her to see. "…I passed."
Her gasp was audible, sharp with surprise and joy, her eyes widening as she stared at the Hunter License in my hand. More tears came, but this time they were accompanied by a watery, beaming smile that lit up her whole face. "Oh, Kess! You did it!" She hugged me again, just as tightly.
Dad appeared in the doorway then, wiping sawdust from his hands on his apron. His usual serious, almost stoic expression was softened by a rare, wide grin of pure pride that transformed his face. He didn't rush forward like Mom, but his steady gaze conveyed everything – his relief, his approval, his deep satisfaction. He walked over to me, his steps measured, and placed a firm, warm, calloused hand on my shoulder, his grip strong and comforting. "Welcome home, Kess," he said, his voice thick with emotion, a gruff tenderness I rarely heard. "Well done. We were worried."
That evening's dinner was a happy, celebratory affair. The small house seemed to glow with warmth and relief. Mom fussed over me, piling my plate high with all my favorite dishes, her worries temporarily forgotten in the joy of my return. "Tell us everything, Kess!" she urged, her eyes shining. "What was the journey like? The cities? The other people?"
I shared heavily sanitized anecdotes about the travel and the places I'd seen, focusing on the sights and sounds, omitting the deadly tests and any mention of Nen or aura. "The airship was huge, Mom, like a flying building," I described, careful to keep my tone light and engaging. "And the city where the exam started was so big, with buildings that touched the clouds!"
Dad listened quietly, his eyes crinkling at the corners when Mom got particularly animated, occasionally interjecting with a practical question. "How did you navigate the city?" he asked, his gaze steady. "Did you rely on maps?"
"Yes, Dad," I answered. "And observation. Knowing how to read the flow of people helped too."
"And the other applicants?" Mom prompted. "Were they all very serious? Scary?"
"Some were," I admitted, thinking of the muscular brutes and the sharp-eyed individuals. "But some seemed nervous, just trying their best. There was a lot of variety."
The relief and pride in the small house were palpable, filling the space like the scent of Mom's cooking. It was good to be home, to feel this unconditional love and acceptance after the cutthroat world of the exam.
Later, after Mom had retired, claiming exhaustion from worrying, Dad and I sat outside under the vast, starry sky that always seemed clearer and closer over Ryujinshima, far from city lights. The sounds of the night – the rhythmic chirping of crickets, the distant murmur of waves against the shore – were a peaceful, familiar backdrop. It was the right setting for a more honest debrief.
I recounted more details of the exam phases then, describing Tsezguerra's relentless gauntlet and the unexpected obstacles in the tunnel, Zest's Gungi test and my lucky bye (admitting my lack of aptitude for the game), and finally Botobai's sudden-death battle royale in the gymnasium, focusing on the strategies, the physical demands, and my observations of the other applicants' skills rather than explicit violence.
Dad listened intently, occasionally nodding or asking a clarifying question about the terrain in the tunnel or the layout of the gymnasium. He didn't interrupt with unnecessary comments, letting me tell the story in my own way. When I described Botobai and his intimidating presence, his sheer scale and contained power, Dad let out a soft, almost nostalgic chuckle. "Botobai Gigante, eh?" he mused, leaning back slightly on the wooden porch steps, looking up at the stars. "So that stern brat finally made Triple Star. Always intense, that one, even back then." The casual mention, the implied personal history with a Hunter as powerful as Botobai, sent a small jolt through me – back then? It strongly implied a shared past, subtly confirming my suspicions about Dad's age, his own capabilities, and his past connections to the Hunter world's elite.
When I mentioned Netero ending the exam early and his cheerful, slightly mischievous demeanor, Dad shook his head with a dry smile that held genuine affection. "And old man Netero is still playing games with the exam instead of enjoying a well-deserved retirement? Ho. Some things truly never change." He looked at me then, his expression serious but his eyes warm. "You learned valuable lessons in those few days, Kess. Tsezguerra tested endurance, physical capability, and awareness under pressure. Zest tested adaptability and intellect – your bye was luck, yes, but recognizing your weakness there and not relying on bluff was wisdom. Botobai tested combat pragmatism, ruthless efficiency, and the ability to read intent in a chaotic environment." He paused, letting his words sink in. "What did you take away from it all? Beyond just passing?"
"That my foundation is solid, maybe even better than I thought," I answered honestly, reflecting on how effortless the physical tests had felt compared to the struggles of others. "But also that I have huge gaps, like with the Gungi. And that luck plays a part in the world, but it shouldn't be relied upon."
He nodded, satisfied. "Good. Self-awareness is crucial. So, what path will you walk now, Kess? Now that you hold that card, that license?"
"I'm... still undecided on what kind of Hunter I want to be," I admitted. The possibilities the license opened up felt vast and overwhelming. "There are so many paths. For now, my priority is building significantly on my Nen foundation. Specifically, developing my Hatsu. I need a reliable, practical ability of my own before I venture out properly again." I paused, thinking of the expensive airship ticket. "I also need to figure out how to earn funds. Using the Hunter website for information and travel isn't free, and being effective requires resources."
Dad nodded again. "A practical approach. A Hunter needs skills beyond just fighting, and resources to pursue their goals. Hatsu development takes time, focused intent, and often, carefully considered Vows and Limitations to reach its potential. Don't rush it. Explore your own nature, your affinities. Let your Manipulator tendencies guide you." He looked up at the stars, their light ancient and distant. "It's late. Best get some rest. You've earned it."
The following months saw a significant shift in my training regimen. Dad stepped back from the role of daily supervisor, trusting my established discipline with Ten, Zetsu, Gyo, and the various advanced applications like Shu and Ken. He became more of a mentor and consultant, available for questions and guidance, but the day-to-day pushing and drilling became my responsibility alone. I continued the grueling Hatsu Foundation Training rotation, pushing against the limits of my natural type, reporting my progress and receiving guidance from him on the next level's requirements only when I occasionally cleared a hurdle, which remained a slow, frustrating process for the non-Manipulation categories.
My main focus, however, turned inward, towards developing my own unique Manipulation Hatsu. Sitting in meditation for hours in quiet spots I found on the island – a secluded cove, a high point overlooking the ocean, the empty forest clearing where Dad had first shown me Nen – I focused my aura internally, exploring the possibilities of manipulating the systems within my own body. It was during one of these intense, focused sessions that I formulated my core Vow, speaking it aloud to the empty air, the trees, and the silent presence of my own aura: "My Manipulation Hatsu will only ever target myself." This was a deliberate Limitation designed to bypass the immense complexities, ethical ambiguities, and potential recoil or failure risks associated with trying to manipulate the minds or bodies of others, while hopefully amplifying the power and precision when applied inward, to my own physical form.
For several months, this became my singular focus. The process was painstaking, demanding intense concentration and patience. I was exploring the subtle, intricate pathways of my own being, guided only by theoretical knowledge and my innate affinity.
After these months of intense, self-directed training, pushing my internal control and understanding, I felt… ready. My Nen basics were absolutely solid, my physical conditioning was at its peak, and I had taken crucial steps towards the development of my own unique abilities. I had taken my capabilities as far as I could alone on the island. I needed real-world application, challenges that couldn't be simulated in training, and resources to fund my ventures.
The farewell this time was different from the first, nervous departure. Mom cried again at the dock, watching me go, but her tears were mingled with obvious pride in her Hunter son. She hugged me tightly, her voice firm despite the emotion, telling me to be safe but also to chase my dreams, to use my license wisely. Dad stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder, his eyes serious but approving. He gave me a firm nod as I shouldered my pack. "Heavens Arena, then?" he asked, confirming the destination we'd discussed, a place renowned for combat and earning potential. "A good place to test your skills, find challenging opponents, and earn starting capital. The experience will be valuable. Be careful, Kess."
"I will, Dad. Mom." I shouldered my pack, the weight feeling familiar and right. I gave them one last wave, watching them stand together on the dock, their figures receding slightly as I turned towards the path leading away from home, towards the ferry waiting to take me back to the mainland.
A determined smile spread across my face as I walked. Heavens Arena. Dad was right – the perfect place to hone my skills, gain real combat experience against Nen users, and earn the capital needed for the next stage of my journey as a Hunter. Time to see what the famed battle tower holds.