Chapter 3: The Circus' Unrest in Glam Gas Land

"I object! Morittonio has gone too far this time, taking in some kid with unknown origins!" The words echoed through the dimly lit room, heavy with accusation.

"Hisoka is nothing like Oboro and Abaki. Those two at least make themselves useful and follow orders," Berize continued, his elaborate circus costume making his agitation seem almost comical. "That Hisoka, he's always smiling, but something about him sets me on edge!"

Morittonio sat calmly on the worn sofa, regarding his longtime colleague with patient amusement. "Come now, Berize. Need I remind you that I once took in a common thief who posed as a shoemaker? Or have you forgotten your own past, sleeping in public restrooms before joining us?"

Berize's face flushed beneath his theatrical makeup. The fat man's ridiculous haircut and exaggerated clothing, perfect for their performances only emphasized his discomfort.

"That was different," he protested, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "We've received an invitation from Royal Glam, do you understand what this means? We could become famous across the entire Yorbian continent overnight! The mayor and nobility will be there, scrutinizing every performer." His voice took on an urgent edge. "What if Hisoka ruins everything? What if they cancel our invitation because of him?"

"The Royal Glam show is still two months away," Morittonio replied, fingers steepled before him. "Your concerns seem rather premature."

Berize opened his mouth to argue further, but Morittonio's eyes flickered upward, catching movement in the corridor above. Two figures stood there, Oboro and Hisoka, side by side yet worlds apart. One wore an expression of careful neutrality, the other his ever-present smile. It was clear they'd overheard everything.

"You really haven't made yourself popular," Oboro observed, hands tucked into his pockets. "All this time, and still no one trusts you."

"Can't be helped," Hisoka replied with easy indifference. "They're determined to see me as a threat."

"Perhaps you should look in the mirror for the reason why," Oboro suggested bluntly.

"I envy you, you know," Hisoka turned to study Oboro's profile. "Everyone's so protective of you."

Below them, Morittonio cleared his throat pointedly, drawing Berize's attention to their audience. The fat man's face darkened when he spotted Hisoka.

"Your performance today was spectacular!" Hisoka called down, leaning over the railing with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Berize's only response was a disgusted snort as he rose to leave, shoulders stiff with barely contained anger.

"Oh my, did I interrupt something important?" Hisoka's innocent tone fooled no one as he turned to Morittonio.

"Hisoka," the circus leader's voice carried a note of sudden interest. "Do you know any magic tricks?"

Standing beside Hisoka, Oboro felt his heart constrict. As a Nen user, Morittonio's powers of observation were exceptional. Though Hisoka had been careful, his constant study of the other performers and his unusual physical capabilities hadn't gone unnoticed.

Morittonio's interest in Hisoka stemmed partly from the boy's perpetual state of alertness, a trait that hinted at a difficult past. Despite his slight frame, Hisoka possessed remarkable flexibility, lightning-quick reflexes, and surprising strength. Though he rarely displayed these abilities openly, they hadn't escaped the leader's keen eye.

But it wasn't just Hisoka who had caught Morittonio's attention. Oboro's recent transformation had been equally remarkable, though different in nature. His progress had been more structured, more deliberate, leaving clear traces for someone who knew what to look for.

In response to the question, Hisoka made a fluid gesture with one arm, producing a deck of cards as if from thin air. His fingers danced, sending the cards spinning and flowing between them in mesmerizing patterns. The display ended with five cards fanned between his fingers, which vanished with a casual flick.

Morittonio fell silent, clearly impressed. "Remarkable... even better than my own skills. Who taught you?"

"My mother," Hisoka smiled. "She had very nimble fingers..."

Oboro maintained his neutral expression, but he could taste the lie in Hisoka's words.

"Keep practicing," Morittonio nodded approvingly.

At that moment, Abaki appeared, sparing only a brief glance for the two boys before addressing Morittonio. "Captain."

"Let's go," Morittonio rose, following the girl out. Oboro knew they were headed for another Nen training session, Abaki being the only student currently learning telekinesis.

"Looks like you'll finally get your chance to perform," Oboro observed coolly before walking away.

Left alone, Hisoka drew the two of spades from his deck, pressing it to his lips as an unsettling laugh echoed through the empty room.

The days that followed settled into a grinding routine. Most circus members, including Abaki, had been taken in by Morittonio over the years. The girl rarely interacted with Oboro or Hisoka, keeping to herself except during training.

Oboro maintained his punishing schedule, training his body late into the night, practicing traditional martial arts, sleeping barely a few hours before returning to circus rehearsals. The grueling pace left him exhausted, but he forced himself to continue. If he couldn't endure this level of hardship, he'd never achieve the strength he needed.

Perhaps it was the constant strain, but Oboro found himself smiling less and less, his demeanor growing increasingly cold. The only bright spot was Hisoka's apparent loss of interest in his nocturnal activities. After following him for several days, the red-haired boy had stopped his surveillance, much to Oboro's relief.

Hisoka's opportunity to perform came unexpectedly when another member injured his ankle during practice. Morittonio immediately appointed Hisoka as the replacement, despite the injured performer's protests that he would heal within days.

"Bastard!" the man spat, throwing his hat at Hisoka before limping away, supported by sympathetic colleagues. The incident only intensified the troupe's animosity toward their newest member.

Hisoka remained unperturbed. His debut performance was flawless, displaying a level of skill that drew even louder applause than his predecessor had received.

The next day, during Abaki's training session, the girl voiced the concerns that had been circulating through the troupe. "Captain... could Hisoka be connected to the mafia? We found him bleeding on the roadside..."

Morittonio sipped his wine thoughtfully, watching as Abaki struggled to maintain her aura control while speaking. "Your Nen is becoming unstable," he observed. "Focus on maintaining your Ten."

The girl's anxiety about the upcoming Royal Glam performance was evident. While others dreamed of fame and fortune, Abaki worried only about protecting the circus her home, the place where she'd learned to read and write.

"I can't turn away someone with nowhere else to go," Morittonio said softly. "Abaki... you and Hisoka are the same age. Try to understand him."

"His magic... it's extraordinary."

Abaki froze at these words. She'd rarely heard the captain praise anyone's abilities so directly. Even the senior members who'd been with the circus from its early days had never received such open acknowledgment of their skills.

"Get along with him..." she murmured, Hisoka's enigmatic smile floating through her mind.

...

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