Chapter 4: Prank × Bakul in Trouble × Treat
The fruit stall was bustling with customers.
Bakul was focused, carefully picking out the freshest fruits.
"Shopkeeper! There's a thief!"
A sharp, childish voice rang out behind him—loud enough to silence the entire marketplace.
Bakul turned around and saw the very same brat who had stolen his Jungle Featherpheasant earlier, now grinning mischievously at him.
The stall owner glanced at Alistair in confusion and asked, "Who's the thief?"
Alistair put on a look of righteous indignation and pointed directly at Bakul.
"Whoever I point at is the thief!"
All eyes turned toward the stunned Bakul.
"Me?" he asked, completely dumbfounded. He hadn't even settled accounts with this little punk from earlier, and now he was being falsely accused again?
He protested, "You can't just accuse me without proof!"
The shopkeeper added, "Yeah, what proof do you have that he's stealing, kid?"
"Well, if someone wants to buy something, they need money, right? Just check whether he's carrying any," Alistair replied with perfect composure.
The crowd's gaze now shifted back to Bakul.
"Of course I have money! Just wait!" Bakul said as he hurriedly reached for the small pouch tied to his waist.
His confident expression slowly gave way to panic.
"Wait, where's my money bag?"
The shopkeeper's face instantly changed. "He really is a thief! Catch him!"
Bakul tried to plead his innocence, but his explanation sounded weak and unconvincing to the crowd.
People began surrounding him from all sides, blocking any escape.
Meanwhile, Alistair slipped out through the crowd with a grin, shaking the small pouch hidden in his hand before disappearing down the street.
"Too good!"
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The sun had already sunk below the horizon, bathing the town in a golden glow. Occasionally, seagulls flew overhead, their cries echoing in the quiet evening air.
The once-lively streets were now growing empty. Market stalls were being packed up, their owners closing shop—forming a sharp contrast to the earlier chaos.
Bakul trudged slowly along the road, eyes scanning the ground for his lost money pouch.
His stomach growled painfully, ribs nearly touching from hunger. He didn't even have the strength to hunt for food.
"You looking for something?"
Bakul looked up and saw a boy resting his chin in one hand, sitting casually on the roof of a small wooden building, legs dangling in the air.
It was that same infuriating brat from earlier.
He didn't respond—just gave him a cold glance before continuing his search.
Today had been one disaster after another. He had no energy left to argue, and besides, he was no match for the boy's cunning tongue.
Watching Bakul's pitiful state, Alistair felt a rare twinge of guilt.
"Tch. That wasn't even fun."
He pushed himself off the roof and landed smoothly in front of Bakul, reaching into his pocket and holding out the stolen money pouch.
"Here. Take it back."
Bakul's eyes widened—his missing pouch!
He grabbed it joyfully, then immediately glared at Alistair. "You little punk! You stole from me and made me out to be a thief!"
He raised his fist, ready to pummel him—only for his stomach to let out a loud growl at the worst possible moment.
Clutching his belly, he collapsed onto the ground.
Alistair pulled out a bag of jerky and handed it over.
"Here. Eat."
"I don't want it," Bakul refused stubbornly.
But his stomach growled even louder in protest.
Alistair frowned and crouched down, forcibly stuffing a strip of jerky into his mouth. "Just eat it."
"Mmf—I said I'm not—mmm…"
Though he tried to resist, Bakul's body gave in, and he started chewing with surprising enthusiasm.
The anger in his eyes began to fade.
Alistair reached out a hand to help him up. Bakul instinctively grabbed it.
The moment their hands touched, Alistair beamed. "There! We shook on it. That means we're even."
Bakul yanked his hand back immediately. "As if! I'm not forgiving you."
"Oh really? I don't believe you. I'm Alistair, by the way," he said, introducing himself without giving Bakul a chance to argue.
"…I'm Bakul."
Alistair had only heard of Hunter x Hunter back on Blue Star, but he'd never actually read the manga or watched the anime.
He didn't even know who Hisoka or Kite were, let alone someone like Bakul.
Though he didn't say sorry directly, Alistair decided to make up for what he did—by treating Bakul to dinner at a small restaurant.
Of course, he had another reason too.
As Bakul wolfed down food like a starved beast, Alistair casually asked, "Hey, did you ever take the Hunter Exam?"
Bakul nodded with a mouth full of meat. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"I guessed. Was it hard?"
"It wasn't bad. Are you planning to take it? How old are you anyway?" Bakul asked curiously.
"I'm nine," Alistair replied.
"Then you've still got three years to go."
Alistair nodded. "Yeah. Once I hit twelve, I'm taking it. So tell me—was it really that hard?"
"The first few phases weren't bad. The fourth one was tough. I got eliminated there."
"What was the test?"
"A maze."
Alistair leaned back on his chair with only two legs touching the floor. "That's it?"
"It wasn't the maze that was hard—it's that only ten people could make it out in the end. I didn't make the cut."
Alistair stared at the ceiling, thinking. "You think I'd pass?"
Bakul shook his head.
Alistair immediately sat up, offended. "What?! I'm strong, okay?!"
Bakul waved his hands quickly. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that! The exam changes every year. The phases, the examiners—it's all different. Knowing the past tests doesn't mean much."
"Fair enough," Alistair muttered.
Bakul added, "It's seriously tough though. I met someone who took it 32 times and still hadn't passed."
Alistair burst out laughing. "Sounds like a 'them' problem, not an exam problem."
The two laughed together.
Didn't seem that bad after all.
Alistair figured Bakul's current strength was about equal to his own.
If Bakul made it to the final phase last year, and Alistair still had three years to prepare, things were looking good.
That thought made him feel a lot better.
By the time they left the restaurant, the sky had fully darkened.
"Thanks for the treat!" Bakul said with a goofy smile.
Alistair found his simple nature oddly endearing.
He was clearly the one who'd been wronged, yet he still thanked the one who wronged him.
"Next time it's your treat," Alistair said casually, stretching his neck.
"Deal! But nothing too expensive—I'm broke."
"I was joking. So, when are you trying again?" Alistair asked, waving it off.
"I'm thinking of waiting a few more years. Want to take it together when you're twelve?" Bakul asked tentatively.
More allies meant better odds.
Alistair nodded. "Sure. See you at the exam then. But if we're rivals… I won't go easy on you."
"Same here! See ya!" Bakul grinned.
"Now get outta here." Alistair waved him off.
The two walked off in opposite directions—one heading north, the other south.
A few steps later, Bakul turned to look back.
He saw Alistair humming a little tune, swaying cheerfully as he walked down the dim street.
Bakul thought to himself: That brat's pretty strong… I've got to train harder.
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