Chapter 41 – Leorio's Resolve
"Pietro…?" Leorio muttered under his breath, his eyes unfocused.
The voice echoed faintly in his ears—hoarse, cold, and filled with resentment.
"Why didn't you operate on me back then? Why did you just watch me die? I'm dead, Leorio. Cold… stiff… nothing but a corpse now."
Before he knew it, the phantom stood before him again—Pietro, wearing that same red shirt and pale yellow trousers. But this time, his face was nothing but bone, his body a skeletal husk.
He had been dead for years.
Leorio's breath trembled. "No… that's not it. I wanted to save you, I really did—but I didn't have the money. Surgery costs a fortune, and to perform it legally I needed a medical license… but becoming a doctor—" his voice cracked, "—becoming a doctor takes so much money."
Osren immediately noticed something was wrong. His eyes narrowed.
So it had happened after all.
He'd done everything he could to prevent this—to keep Leorio away from Tonpa's trap, from inhaling the Illusion Tree's hallucinogenic scent.
But fate still had its way.
It seemed Leorio had unconsciously inhaled just enough of the tree's sweet aroma earlier to trigger his heart's buried guilt.
Combined with the exhaustion from hours of running, his inner demons had resurfaced.
Still, Osren exhaled softly in relief.
Good. It's mild—just an echo, not a full illusion.
A little confrontation with the past could even be a blessing in disguise. A trial of will.
He kept an eye on Leorio anyway.
The man was muttering to himself as he rolled forward unsteadily on the skateboard—half here, half lost in some private battlefield of memory.
The others noticed too.
Kurapika glanced over, concern flickering in his emerald eyes, but seeing that Osren made no move, he said nothing.
He merely adjusted his position—close enough to intervene if something went wrong.
Gon, sensing the tension, did the same.
Even Killua, pretending not to care, drifted a little nearer, ready to catch Leorio if he fell.
Tonpa alone looked indifferent, though the glint in his eyes betrayed a sliver of frustration. His scheme wasn't going quite as planned—but he wasn't ready to give up yet.
---
"Money…" Leorio mumbled again, his voice rough. "So much money…"
His eyes began to regain focus, the glassy haze clearing bit by bit.
The illusion of Pietro flickered, then vanished entirely.
Kurapika, closest to him, caught every word and could only sigh helplessly.
Even in delirium, Leorio's mind circled back to money.
Was this greed… or just sheer stubbornness?
The others, all with heightened senses, heard it too. They exchanged amused glances, a mix of exasperation and relief.
Typical Leorio—dying, hallucinating, maybe even seeing ghosts—and still thinking about cash.
"Yeah…" Leorio whispered suddenly, his voice steadier now. "That's right. If I pass the Hunter Exam, I'll have the money. I'll have so much money."
His breathing evened out.
The color returned to his face.
Determination replaced despair.
---
Osren watched quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
He didn't need to say anything. Leorio had already fought his own battle—and won.
Because sometimes, true willpower isn't about overcoming fear.
It's about holding on to the one thing that drives you forward, no matter how ridiculous it seems to others.
And for Leorio… that one thing was money.
Carrying the weight of his best friend's death—a death that he believed was his fault—Leorio had long been haunted by regret.
He often imagined: If only I'd had the money back then… if only I'd already been a licensed doctor…
Would Pietro still be alive today?
Today, the faint whiff of the Bewitching Cedar's scent had cracked that emotional scar wide open—forcing him to confront the rot beneath it.
Painful as it was, it was a release. Only by facing the poison in his heart could he move forward again.
"I'm going to pass the Hunter Exam! I'm going to make so much money!!"
Leorio's roar echoed through the tunnel like thunder, startling everyone nearby.
For a moment, Osren and the others instinctively sped up, silently agreeing that maybe—just maybe—they didn't know this loud, money-obsessed maniac running beside them.
But it was no use.
His voice carried, and soon the entire line of examinees was laughing.
Everyone turned their heads to see the crazy guy yelling about money mid-run.
Leorio, fresh from his emotional breakthrough, had no idea what was going on around him.
He'd simply shouted out the truest thing in his heart—and now realized, belatedly, how utterly embarrassing it sounded.
Even with his thick skin, he wanted to crawl into a hole.
---
"I told you," came a calm voice from the front of the line—it was Hanzo, the ninja. "Those who quit halfway are fools. If you're going to run, then run till the end."
He glanced at Leorio, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You might be loud, but at least you've got guts."
Leorio stopped for a second, then took a deep breath.
Clack!
He planted the skateboard, kicked off his shoes slightly, and stood tall, loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket like a man about to go to war.
"Here," he said, handing the skateboard back to Killua. "Thanks for the loan, kid."
Killua raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden sincerity. He accepted the board quietly, his usually lazy eyes sharpening for a moment. "...Got it."
Then Leorio turned toward Osren. "And thank you too, Osren. But I want to finish this on my own."
Osren smiled faintly. "Fine. But if you collapse again, you'd better say something first."
Leorio chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Deal."
Gon and Kurapika exchanged a look, both smiling. They didn't stop him.
True companions don't pull each other back—they trust each other to stand.
"Let's go!" Leorio roared again, surging forward.
The heavy briefcase Gon had been carrying on his fishing rod clattered behind him.
Freed from its weight—and from the ghosts that had chained his heart—Leorio was running lighter, faster, freer than ever.
---
Five hours passed.
Then six.
The air grew thick and hot, and the tunnel's walls seemed to stretch endlessly.
"Huff... huff…"
Osren's breathing was steady but labored. For someone who had been an ordinary person not long ago, running nonstop for over six hours was nothing short of a miracle.
Even with his "Face Fruit" ability to strengthen himself through reputation, his body could still feel fatigue.
His mind remained sharp—but his muscles burned.
We should be nearing the end soon, he thought.
The Milsy Wetlands—home to beasts, leeches, and worse—wasn't far now.
And he still needed his body in top form for what came next.
It was time to initiate the backup plan.
---
"Mr. Tonpa," Osren said suddenly, sliding up beside the older man with a disarming grin. "You really are incredible. Still keeping up after all this time—you've got amazing stamina."
Tonpa, surprised by the sudden compliment, puffed up a bit. "Oh, well, you know—experience counts for something. After this many exams, your body just… adapts."
"Wow," Osren said with genuine admiration in his tone. "And to think, you're barely winded. That's really impressive—especially for your age."
He sighed dramatically. "If only I had that kind of endurance."
Tonpa's face twitched. He couldn't quite tell if he was being praised… or roasted.
"Ah, no, it's nothing," he said quickly, waving a hand. "You'll build it up in time. You seem like a… capable kid."
Osren smiled innocently. "Thank you, Mr. Tonpa. By the way—you said before that if I ever had any questions, I could come to you, right?"
"Of course," Tonpa said automatically. Then his instincts kicked in. Wait. Why does this feel wrong?
Something about Osren's tone set off warning bells in his head.
Still, he forced a grin. "Sure—go ahead, kid. Ask away."
Osren slowed his pace slightly, feigning hesitation. "I just wanted to say, it's really rare to meet someone so generous and kind. You shared so much useful information with us from the start—it's honestly inspiring."
Tonpa's chest swelled with pride despite himself. "Ah—haha, well, it's nothing. Just helping the next generation, you know. We were all newbies once."
Osren nodded slowly. "Of course. You're a model example of… senior generosity."
At that moment, the faint shimmer in his eyes deepened—
and the Face Fruit quietly activated.
---
Showtime, Osren thought, smiling faintly as the invisible current of influence began to spread.