The salty tang of the sea air on Whale Island was a comforting embrace after the cacophony of Yorknew. Kess was back in his familiar room, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore a soothing counterpoint to the city's constant hum. It was early January 1989, and his recent adventure in the sprawling metropolis still felt fresh in his mind. The vibrant neon, the sheer scale of the buildings, the hurried pace of life – it all felt like a dream now, starkly contrasted by the island's serene, timeless rhythm. Yet, a subtle restlessness gnawed at him. His foray into Yorknew had been exhilarating, a whirlwind of new sensations and a peculiar encounter, but strategically, it had been… inefficient. He, a seasoned Hunter who had earned his license two years prior in the 276th exam, had gone on a whim, but without truly leveraging the vast resources available to him through his license.
He stretched languidly, his muscles humming with the residual energy of his recent training and the lingering tension from his surprising farewell in Yorknew. Rookie mistake, he chided himself, stretching out on his bed, the springs groaning softly in protest. Should have done the research first. Always do the research. He chuckled wryly, a dry sound in the quiet room. Even with all his advantages, with memories of a future that hadn't quite unfolded yet, he was still learning the ropes of living in this world. It wasn't enough to just know things; he had to act with precision, with forethought, to truly bend the timeline to his will.
He decided a more systematic approach was in order. The next day dawned clear and bright, the sun glinting off the tranquil waters of the bay. Kess made his way to the island's small, rather dated, internet cafe. It was a quaint establishment, tucked away beside the local general store, smelling faintly of stale coffee and ozone. The hum of the ancient monitors and the click of keyboards were a stark contrast to Yorknew's cutting-edge technology, but it would serve. He rented a terminal, settling into a surprisingly uncomfortable, creaky chair, and cracked his knuckles with a determined sigh.
His Hunter license, a sturdy, metallic card that felt substantial in his palm, granted him seamless access to the exclusive Hunter-only websites. These were vast, encrypted repositories of information not privy to the general public – an invaluable tool for someone with his newfound purpose. He navigated through layers of security protocols, his fingers flying across the well-worn keyboard, entering search parameters with practiced efficiency. He started by meticulously searching for upcoming auction dates and catalogs in major cities, particularly those rumored to host unique or high-value items. He filtered by location, by item categories (antiques, rare artifacts, peculiar technologies), and by estimated value.
Hours blurred into a monotonous rhythm of scrolling, clicking, and reading. The gentle hum of the old computer, punctuated by the occasional whir of its internal fan, became a meditative drone. He pored over digital catalogs displaying everything from ancient porcelain vases to surprisingly mundane collections of rare stamps. He wasn't looking for anything specific, no particular legendary weapon or mythical artifact; his interest was purely a whim, a casual curiosity for something that might simply catch his eye, something truly interesting or unusual. He considered that perhaps he might stumble upon a unique, high-value asset, something to acquire and hoard.
But the results were overwhelmingly underwhelming. Most upcoming auctions were for high-end, conventional goods – fine art, classic automobiles, prestigious jewelry. Nothing that truly piqued his interest as a curiosity, nothing out of the ordinary that sparked his unique brand of fascination. The really interesting, potentially bizarre or esoteric items, the kind that might hint at hidden histories or unknown value, remained elusive. Or perhaps, they were simply not listed on public-facing Hunter databases. The most intriguing auctions were always months away, scheduled for later in the year, well beyond his immediate window of opportunity.
Disappointment, a dull ache that settled in his chest, began to solidify. With a deep sigh, Kess shifted his focus. If auctions weren't yielding immediate results for his curious whim and asset acquisition goal, perhaps high-paying Hunter jobs would provide the substantial monetary hoarding he sought. He browsed the job boards, sorting the myriad requests by reward value. Many positions were indeed high-paying, some boasting truly astronomical figures, but a quick scan revealed a common, disheartening theme: long-term employment. They were bodyguard contracts stretching for years, intricate investigative roles requiring months, even a year, of dedicated travel, or teaching positions at specialized academies that demanded multi-year commitments. These opportunities, lucrative as they were, would tie him down, preventing him from reacting to crucial canon events or pursuing spontaneous leads that might arise. Flexibility, for Kess, was paramount.
He leaned back, the old chair creaking in protest, and let out a long, frustrated sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his unfulfilled ambitions. His gaze drifted from the glowing screen to the dusty window, where the island's simple, unchanging beauty stretched out before him. The endless scrolling and the lack of flexible, intriguing opportunities were starting to wear him down. He rubbed his temples, a quiet exhaustion settling over him. He was a Hunter, yes, and powerful, but the path to wealth and meaningful impact was not as straightforward as he had initially hoped.
Approximately two weeks melted away into the easy rhythm of island life. Kess, his initial frustration with the digital search still simmering beneath the surface, threw himself into his physical and Nen training with renewed intensity. The secluded beaches of Whale Island became his personal dojo, the vast, empty expanse of sand and sea a perfect arena for his rigorous regimen. He revisited his fundamentals, pushing his Ten to new depths, allowing his aura to wrap around him in a protective, almost tangible cocoon. He refined his Ren to a razor's edge, letting his aura flare with controlled power, feeling the raw energy surge through his limbs. He spent hours meditating by the roaring surf, pushing the comfortable limits of his Inner Peace ability, seeing how far he could push his enhanced physical attributes – his speed, his strength, his reflexes – before even the slightest strain or discomfort registered. His body, already honed, grew leaner, his movements even more fluid and precise, a living testament to his unwavering dedication. He still made the daily pilgrimage to the internet cafe, maintaining his quiet vigil over the Hunter databases, but the results remained unchanged, a stagnant pool of mundane opportunities.
Then, one sunny afternoon, around mid-January, the familiar, comforting sound of the ferry horn echoed across the bay, a distant, plaintive call that quickly grew louder. Kess, who had been practicing a complex set of empty-hand forms by the shore, paused, his stance unwavering, his gaze sweeping towards the familiar silhouette of the incoming vessel. He saw her. Standing on the deck, waving vigorously, her silhouette outlined against the bright sky, was Mito. A wide, radiant smile was plastered across her face, a clear sign of triumph that even from this distance was unmistakable. Grandma, already at the small dock, her aged eyes bright with anticipation, let out a joyful cry that carried on the wind and rushed forward, tears streaming down her face as she embraced her granddaughter, a hug that spoke volumes of love and relief.
Kess joined them, his own face breaking into a genuine, proud smile. He picked up his pace, meeting them halfway. "Mito!" he called out, his voice filled with warmth, genuine happiness bubbling up inside him.
She pulled away from Grandma, her eyes sparkling, a flush of exertion and excitement on her cheeks. "Kess! I did it! I'm a Professional Hunter!" Her voice was a joyous shout, echoing across the quiet bay.
The reunion was a whirlwind of hugs, laughter, and palpable relief that filled the small space between them. Grandma, still wiping tears from her eyes, fussed over Mito, checking her over for any scrapes or injuries, her voice a low murmur of concern and endearment. That evening, the house was filled with the warm, savory aroma of Grandma's special celebratory cooking, and the even warmer glow of their collective happiness. It was a simple, heartfelt feast, a testament to family bonds and hard-won success.
As they sat around the table, the plates laden with food, Mito, still buzzing with adrenaline and excitement, became the animated storyteller. Her usual composed demeanor was shed like an old skin, replaced by an infectious enthusiasm. Her hands gestured wildly, her eyes wide as she relived each trial, each challenge, each moment of doubt and triumph.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it, Kess!" she began, barely able to contain herself, leaning forward conspiratorially across the table. "The first test for the 278th Hunter Exam was a written exam, but it was just... bizarre! Utterly, completely nonsensical! The proctor, a severe-looking woman with a monocle, just handed out these insane questionnaires. I swear, the questions were designed to make your head spin, not test your knowledge! Like, 'If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does it make a sound, and if so, what kind of sound does a silent tree make?' Or 'Which came first, the chicken or the egg, and why is that relevant to competitive bird-watching in the rainforest?' I had to suppress a giggle! I thought, 'Is this a trick? Am I supposed to find the hidden meaning in this absurdity?'" She shook her head dramatically, still amused by the sheer ridiculousness of it all. "But I passed, and surprisingly, so did a lot of others. It felt like they just wanted to weed out the ones who overthought everything, the ones who couldn't embrace the bizarre and just answer."
Kess chuckled, taking a bite of his food, a smile playing on his lips. The absurdity of this exam must be designed to test personality traits more than anything.
"Then it was off to an island!" Mito continued, barely pausing for breath, her fork momentarily forgotten. "A giant scavenger hunt, but with a twist – limited targets! We had to find a specific type of colorful toy doll – can you believe it? A doll! Not some rare beast, not a hidden treasure, but a plastic doll! And then, once you found it, you had to protect it! It was a scramble, Kess, a complete free-for-all! Everyone was racing, bumping into each other, trying to snatch dolls from anyone who found one. I managed to find mine early, tucked away under a gnarled root of an ancient tree, but then the real fight began. I had to fend off challengers every five minutes! Dodging through dense jungle, running across open clearings, even setting up some small tripwires and distraction traps I remembered from your lessons, just to throw them off. Had to protect that silly doll with my life! It was absolutely exhausting but so, so exhilarating! My heart was pounding the entire time!" Her eyes gleam with the wild, untamed memory of the chase, her hands moving as if still fending off invisible assailants.
"That's Mito for you!" Kess interjected with pride, leaning back in his chair, enjoying her animated retelling. She truly had embraced the Hunter spirit.
"Next, a race!" Mito announced, taking a dramatic sip of water. "Pure, brutal, no tricks, no gimmicks. Just run. From one side of a mountain range to the other. They called it a 'test of endurance and will.' The first thirty to cross the finish line got through. My legs burned like fire, Kess, every muscle screamed in protest with every step! I pushed myself harder than I ever thought possible. I saw people collapsing, giving up, their dreams ending right there on the dusty trail, but I just kept pushing, one step after another. I thought of home, of Grandma, of you… and I pushed through!" She flexed an arm, a proud grin on her face, a clear testament to the grit she possessed.
"This one was the strangest of all," Mito confided, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They put us in pairs, and you didn't know if you were the hider or the seeker until your turn came. It was designed to test your adaptability, they said. When it was my turn, I was the hider! I swear, Kess, I picked the best spot. There was this giant, ancient tree with a hollowed-out base, perfectly overgrown with thick vines and moss. It was like nature had carved me a perfect, camouflaged hideaway. They never found me! My opponent was good, I could hear them, closer and closer, sometimes just meters away. I just hunkered down, held my breath, and waited it out. It was nerve-wracking, every shadow seemed to move, every rustle of leaves, every distant sound felt like they were closing in. My heart pounded like a drum against my ribs, but I held my ground. My opponent ran out of time!" She puffed out her chest slightly, a testament to her patience and newfound stealth.
"And then, the final test!" Mito exclaimed, her voice rising in excitement once more, her triumph bubbling over. "By President Netero himself! Can you believe it? The legendary Netero! He was... surprisingly spry for an old man, Kess, you wouldn't believe it! He had this incredibly mischievous twinkle in his eye. He divided us into three teams, and it was a battle royale, last team standing wins. Pure chaos, but exhilarating! It wasn't about brute force, but about strategy, about reading your opponents, about teamwork. My team worked together perfectly, covering each other, anticipating moves, communicating without words. We took down the other teams, one by one, using clever diversions and focused attacks. We won! All of us! We're all professional Hunters now!" She finished with a triumphant flourish, a wide, radiant smile lighting up the entire room.
Kess listened, a knowing smile playing on his lips, occasionally interjecting with a supportive comment ("Sounds about right," "That's Mito for you!"), or a specific question that showed his understanding without giving away too much. He was genuinely proud of her determination and ingenuity. She truly had become a Hunter, not just in name, but in spirit and capability.
The next morning, the familiar routine of Nen training resumed, but with a new dynamic. Mito, now a freshly licensed Hunter, approached her training with renewed vigor and understanding. Her aura control was sharper, her movements more purposeful, fueled by the confidence of her accomplishment. Kess continued to guide her, pushing her further, refining her aura control and physical conditioning, subtly incorporating more advanced concepts now that she had truly earned her stripes.
As they trained by the ocean, the gentle lapping of waves a constant rhythm, Kess's thoughts drifted. The changes I've initiated by training Mito for this exam, resulting in her becoming a professional Hunter, are beginning to ripple through the timeline. I wonder how this deviation will affect the fate of young Gon and the famously absent Ging Freecss. How will Ging react to a Hunter Mito? And what will that mean for everything else? He kept his thoughts to himself, the implications of his actions a private calculation that only he could ponder. The future, he knew, was now more unpredictable than ever, and he can't help but love it.