SOUR CANDY | killua z. ✔

4 | wait

SEN WAS not the first person to arrive. Or the second, or the third. In fact—

"Hello, please take your number badge!"

She looked down. A small, green-skinned person was holding out a white circular medallion. Sen took it. '297' was printed on the front.

"Be sure to wear it on your chest at all times, please," they continued. "Make sure not to lose it!"

Sen wanted to get more information out of the little person, but they were gone before she even took a breath. Alright, nice talk.

She blinked, standing in front of the elevator like an idiot for a few seconds, before remembering that it was in her best interest to start taking note of her surroundings.

Sen pinned the badge to the front of her glittery sweatshirt and slunk off to the side, glancing around as she went. The large chamber was damp but surprisingly well-lit. The walls were lined with crooked industrial pipes. The 296 applicants that arrived before her huddled in the center, a cement-thick tension stuck between every one of them. You would need Nen to cut a slice of that.

Sen kicked at one of the thicker pipes closer to the ground, testing its stability. It seemed fine, just covered in dust or dirt or whatever city sewers had in it. She sat on it, swinging her backpack into her lap, and tucked her knees to her chest. 

Sen frowned, thinking that she should've ordered actual food from that noodle shop upstairs.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Sen got to observe the other applicants for maybe two minutes before someone interrupted her focus.

"Hello, there! First timer, eh?"

The man approaching her had a portly figure, squat nose, and reeked of rotten meat. A liar, through-and-through. Foxes could quite literally smell when someone was lying. She resisted the instinctual urge to scrunch up her nose and hiss.

"Sure," she shrugged.

"I'm Tonpa," the man spoke with false amiability. "This is my thirty-fifth attempt at the Exam, so, feel free to consider me your mentor. What's your name, kid?"

"Kalani," Sen lied. That was her cousin's name.

"Pretty name," he commented. "Say, Kalani, how about a toast to our newfound friendship?"

Friendship, she thought incredulously. Her only friends were her brother and sisters. Sen stared at the orange can in Tonpa's outstretched hand. The man's rotten meat smell worsened the longer the can was in her face. Two-hundred percent chance it was poisoned or otherwise tampered with.

"I'm allergic to citrus," she lied again, eyeing the cartoonish orange slice printed on the can. 

"Ah, no worries, it's not actual orange juice. Just flavoring," Tonpa waved away her concern.

Fuck, this guy was persistent. What girl in her right mind accepted a drink from some random older guy, anyway? 

"Oh," Sen lowered her head demurely, dark hair curtaining her face. "I'm sorry, but in my culture, it's taboo for girls to accept gifts from men before marrying age. You wouldn't want to sully my reputation, sir—"

She looked up at Tonpa through her hair. Whatever was in her eyes made him pale and reel back.

"—would you?" Sen finished coolly. She held his gaze.

"No, no, no, absolutely not," He held his hands up awkwardly. "Sorry 'bout that, I guess."

Tonpa left pretty quickly. So much for newfound friendship.