A Worthy Enemy (HunterxHunter)

Chapter 2: A Red Sign

3 months earlier....

Darnell made his way to the entrance of Shadou's Gym with a duffle bag over his shoulder and a water bottle in his hand. The summer's heat pressed onto his skin until the doors slid open, sending a rush of cool air from the air-conditioned building. Darnell inhaled the musk smell of sweat and welcomed the sound of grunting men, hitting countless punching bags scattered throughout the open building. The sun's beams glazed the cast gray floors from a large ceiling window in the center.

"Darnell? You're back!" said that familiar, aged voice at the front desk.

Darnell waved and approached the desk. "Arnold, how have you been holding up?"

The old man wrinkled his gray mustache. "Oh, you know, same old fights. A couple of newbies, but none of them lasted. Your hair grew out and ya' look thinner," he gruffed. "Was your other job that stressful?"

"It was pretty tough, but nothing hard enough to hold me back from coaching."

"You got someone today?"

Darnell tilted his head to scan the field of men. "Yeah, a friend of mine is waiting. She was with me for the job and asked me to help train her." Then his eyes caught on a red sign, plastered over a large window, revealing a training room. It was just on the second story, peeking behind the rail of the balcony on the side of the building.

"What happened over there?" Darnell pointed. "Is it closed off?"

Arnold raised a finger, almost breaking his words in hesitation. "Uh, about that. There was a new—"

"Hey," A deep voice reverberated in the air. A brawny man with muscles as thick and veiny as a bull tramped to the front desk. He was just as bald as Arnold and had a noticeable scar on his forehead. Behind him were two others in similar physiques. One had lime green and black-streaked hair while a nasty cut scouted over his face. The other seemed to have a deep wound on his torso from a red-tainted bandage around him. Actually, he was covered in more scars than the other two, having a black eye as well. All three of their faces were stern and glinting of sweat from the outside heat. Within their hands, held boxing gloves while bandage wraps were being carried by the injured one. "We're new here and wanted to try the gym out—"

"I heard this gym was only for the top trained championship fighters and welcomes all fighting styles." The lime-haired man interrupted his friend and placed his fist on the counter, lowering his voice. Darnell noticed the small flickers of Nen radiating from his fist. A fine detail that was only recognized in enhancers. These men did, in fact, know Nen, just as most people did here. "And I heard Red was here." The man narrowed his eyes in a piercing gaze, though Arnold didn't retreat from his pressuring aura.

Red? Darnell didn't recognize that name.

"You've come to the right place, sir," Arnold began. "And because it's your first time, you get a free trial. After that, the price is half-a-million jenny a month, or you win a fighting match once a month to keep your membership continuous. Newbies have to win a fight within the week to start."

The lime-haired man chuckled. "Sounds like a fair deal fellas."

"However," Darnell stepped in, "I'm afraid you've come at a busy hour so you may find the center equipment occupied. You can take any available room to train as long as there are two or more people using that room. Fifty rooms are available. If anything else concerns you, come see me."

The men raised an eyebrow at him.

"Darnell Shadou, pleased to meet you." Without waiting for their recognition, he reached for the lime-haired man's hand and gave a firm shake. Whispers, adrenaline, and chaos surged through his body. "I train most fighters here so feel free to come to me for advice." From the moment they spoke, Darnell already listed plausible faults and weaknesses from each of them. The bald man walked with his left foot turned out which indicated an ankle injury while his right leg was noticeably larger, assuming it was his dominant side. He had the outlook of a kickboxer with those powerful legs. The wounded one would clearly experience pains in turning movements and was most likely to strike head-on. And because the lime-haired one interrupted his friend, he could have dominance-driven motives and a short attention span. Anger issues. Immature.