Chapter 17: The Endless Rhythm
The tunnel was a tube of suffocating monotony.
It was not a natural cave. It was a perfect, man-made cylinder of dark, weeping concrete, stretching into an impossible, black distance. Dim, fluorescent lights were spaced at precise, identical intervals on the ceiling, each one casting the same weak, sickly yellow-green glow. They flickered by, one after another, a hypnotic, endless metronome.
The only sound was the thunder of feet.
A hundred, two hundred, perhaps more—a sea of thundering, shuffling, panting, and pounding footsteps. It was the sound of a migrating herd, a desperate, faceless stampede. The air, cool at first, quickly grew hot, humid, and stale. It tasted of dust, sweat, and a faint, metallic tang.
Yuta fell into a rhythm. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.
This, he understood. This, he could do.
His mind, which had been a storm of shame and cold, paralyzing fear since the encounter with Hisoka, finally found a single, hard point to focus on: the burn. The ache in his calves. The steady, pounding rhythm of his heart.
This was like his explorations in Aethel Glen. This was just... walking. It was just a long walk. He had strong legs, honed by years of climbing, running, and pushing the boundaries of his small world. This was a physical test, a measurable, finite challenge. It was not the infinite, cold, immeasurable malice of the jester's golden eyes.
He would not fail this. He would not.
He ran with his head down, his canary-yellow hair sticking to his damp forehead. His breathing was deep and even. Beside him, Kurapika ran with a grace that was almost offensive; his stride was long, efficient, and his breathing was nearly silent. He looked like he was on a light jog, his calm, gray-blue eyes fixed on the distant, gliding figure of Satotz.
And then there was Leorio.
"Haaa... huh... huh... Are... you... KIDDING me?!" Leorio gasped, his face a shiny, crimson sheet of sweat. His suit jacket was off, slung over his shoulder, and his tie was ripped loose. "This... this is... inhumane! I'm a... I'm a businessman! Not a... not a... pack mule!"
"Control your breathing, Leorio," Kurapika said, his voice level, not even turning his head. "You're panicking. You're wasting what little energy you have."
"I AM NOT... pant... PANICKING!" Leorio wheezed, his briefcase slapping wildly against his hip. "I'm... I'm... making an... observation!"
Yuta glanced at him. He almost smiled. Leorio's loud, human suffering was a strange comfort. It was an anchor, pulling his mind from the dark place it had been. He focused on Satotz. The examiner's gliding, bizarre run never faltered. His pace was relentless, unchanging, a machine.
Hours passed.
The tunnel's cruelest trick was its sameness. There were no markers. No turns. No change in the light, the sound, or the texture of the ground. Yuta had no idea if they had run one mile or fifty. People began to drop.
First, it was the over-confident. The ones who sprinted at the start, only to collapse in a heap, their bodies wracked with cramps. Then, it was the unprepared. They would stumble, fall, and simply... not get back up. The sea of runners parted around them and flowed on, leaving them behind in the dim, yellow-green light.
Yuta's own legs were no longer just burning; they were heavy, numb, alien things. His lungs felt like they were lined with hot gravel.
"Hey."
The voice was light, casual. Yuta looked over. Gon and Killua were jogging alongside them, their pace slowed to a chatter. They didn't even look tired.
"Hi, Gon," Yuta panted, the word a small cloud of moisture in the thick air.
"You guys are slow!" Gon beamed, his face barely flushed. "Me and Killua have been all the way up to the front and back! Killua's amazing! He can ride his skateboard and do all these cool tricks!"
Killua, his hands laced behind his head, was indeed coasting on his skateboard, his movements fluid and effortless. His dark blue eyes flicked over to Yuta.
"You're still here, huh?" Killua said. It wasn't a compliment or an insult. Just a fact. He glanced at the Blade of Reflection, which was strapped firmly to Yuta's back, the purple hilt a dark splash of color. "Figured you'd have quit by now, 'Sword-guy'."
Yuta's jaw tightened. "I'm... not... quitting."
Killua shrugged, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "We'll see."
And then, the ground... changed. It tilted. Up.
A collective, animalistic groan rose from the crowd. The flat tunnel had become a staircase. A massive, endless, brutal flight of stairs, rising up into the darkness.
Satotz, his pace utterly unchanged, began to ascend without a second's hesitation.
"STAIRS?!" Leorio's voice cracked, a sound of pure, unadulterated despair. "Oh, come on! This... This is where I die!"
Yuta looked at the first step. His thighs screamed in protest. He grit his teeth, the shame of Killua's words, the memory of Hisoka's eyes, and the sheer, stubborn love for his mother all mixing into a single, potent fuel.
He put his foot on the first step. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. The rhythm, now, was agony.