It had been a few days since Kenji had started seriously thinking about his Hatsu, the signature Nen ability that would define his fighting style, and so far, he had nothing.
He sat slouched in a plush chair, staring at the ceiling as if the intricate pattern might suddenly spell out the perfect answer. The more he thought, the more elusive the solution became.
He knew what he needed, a trump card. Something unique that couldn't be easily replicated by his System's existing advantages, not just a simple boost to his stats or a straightforward blast of energy.
He needed an ability that would provide him with an edge in a fight, and ideally, something that could also support his future allies, a multifaceted power with both offensive and defensive applications.
As a Specialist, his Nen affinity was blank, adaptable. But this very flexibility was his biggest obstacle. He wasn't tied to the rigid logic of an Emitter, the brute force of an Enhancer, or the concrete structures of a Manipulator.
Instead, he had more to work with and less to define him. He wanted to create his own rules, to create something from nothing, an ability that resonated with the core of his soul.
He had seen the consequences of a poorly conceived Hatsu, the failure to progress because you cut off your own path.
He was beginning to understand why Gon had settled for a simple, straightforward ability. Simplicity worked. It was reliable, efficient, and didn't require an insane amount of mental gymnastics to create and master.
But Kenji didn't want simple. With his System, he already had access to simple abilities.
He needed something more, a power born from his own unique nature, a reflection of the "Specialist" Nen type that had been revealed to him. A true Hatsu for a Gamer, a move that could bend the rules of a fight in his favor.
He had spent the last two days locked in his room, meticulously running through every idea he could conjure. He'd tried to conceptualize a Hatsu based on his Game Creation skill, a power that could alter the "rules of the game" for a limited time, maybe imposing a status effect on his opponent, or even creating a small, localized "dungeon" with its own set of laws.
The problem? The sheer Nen cost was astronomical, and the mental strain left him with a pounding headache that felt like his brain was trying to claw its way out of his skull.
He'd also considered something tied to his Statusscreen, an ability that could grant him a temporary, massive boost to a single stat, like a burst of Strength or a flash of Agility.
But that felt too much like an Enhancer's ability, a simple, brute-force solution that lacked the complexity he craved.
The core of his being as a Gamer was about exploiting systems, finding loopholes, and stacking advantages, not just overpowering an opponent. He needed a Hatsu that was a cheat code, not a simple power-up.
It was a maddening paradox, his greatest strength, his adaptability, was also his greatest weakness. It gave him too many options, none of which felt truly right.
He let out a long sigh, letting his head drop forward until his chin rested on his chest. "I won't really get any ideas just sitting here," he muttered, pushing up from the chair. He decided maybe it was time to ease up.
All work and no play made life a cruel place, and stressing over this was getting him nowhere. He needed to clear his mind, to let his subconscious work on the problem while he was distracted.
The last few days had been busy enough. He'd been cleaning up gangs across the city, thinning their numbers and gathering information.
Word was already spreading, whispers of a phantom presence cutting into their operations, a ghost who left a trail of broken men.
The last group he hit had orders to find whoever was thinning their ranks. He could keep pushing, keep bleeding them out, but truthfully? He had already gotten what he wanted.
The necessary information on the new family heads and their territories was in hand. "First was the..." he muttered, then stopped. Didn't he just say he was going to relax? Why was his mind immediately trying to drag him back into scheming? Another sigh. It seemed chilling out was harder than it sounded.
Kenji wandered through the city, letting his feet carry him. Over the days, Yorknew had started to look less like a warzone and more like itself again. Lights were coming back on, people filled the streets with a tentative but growing confidence, and shops reopened, their awnings bright and welcoming.
The city hummed with a renewed, nervous energy, a testament to its resilience. He could hear the distant sounds of construction, the steady rhythmic clang of metal against metal, and the hopeful chatter of vendors setting up their stalls.
The scent of fresh-baked bread and roasting meat now mingled with the lingering smell of city grime, a sign of life returning.
It reminded him of Vegas, bright, gaudy, and alive, a monument to human excess and desire. And in Vegas, well... you had to at least try your hand at the casinos. A small smile tugged at his lips. Mindless fun wasn't the worst idea right now.
The Fortune Run House was impossible to miss. A towering giant of glass and light, it loomed over the streets like a monument to excess. Yorknew's biggest casino, its heartbeat was money, luck, and broken dreams.
Kenji walked in, exchanged a few stacks of cash for chips, and made his way to the slot machines. The air inside was thick with the clatter of coins, the shrill ring of jackpots, and the low, constant murmur of hope and despair. Tier 2 Luck did not disappoint.
The machine hummed to life, a flurry of digital fruit and symbols spinning on the screen. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. One spin, jackpot. A rain of coins and a celebratory jingle filled the air. Another spin, jackpot. Again, and again, and again.
Seven times in a row. By the fifth spin, people had begun to gather, murmuring, pointing. By the seventh, he had a small crowd, buzzing with a mixture of awe and suspicion. The sound of his machine became a beacon, drawing in a crowd eager to see the man who was either the luckiest person in the world or the most brazen cheat.
Kenji just grinned wider, feeling the sheer absurdity of his luck. He moved on to the tables. Blackjack, poker, it didn't matter. The chips stacked higher and higher in front of him, a gleaming testament to his unnatural fortune.
His hands moved on pure intuition, a subtle flicker of insight guiding his every decision. The cards seemed to arrange themselves in his favor; the dice seemed to roll exactly as he intended.
At one point, he didn't even bother looking at the cards dealt to him, simply calling his hand with an unwavering certainty. The dealer, a man with a perpetually bored expression, had to wipe sweat from his brow, his hands visibly shaking as he dealt the next card. The man sitting next to him stared like he'd lost his mind, only to explode in frustration when Kenji won again.
"Impossible! You cheated!" the man barked, slamming his cards down so hard the table rattled. He was a mountain of a man with a face like a storm cloud and a neck flushed with a mix of fury and disbelief.
"There's no way! You didn't even look at your hand! What kind of black magic is this?!" Others at the table eyed Kenji suspiciously, their expressions sour. He just waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. I'm just lucky."
The man looked ready to swing at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching. But then—
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of heels striking marble cut through the noise like a blade. Conversation stilled. The angry man paled instantly, his rage replaced by a sudden, bone-deep fear. So did half the table. Kenji turned his head—and felt his stomach sink.
A tall woman approached with the elegance of a queen and the confidence of a predator. She was a striking figure, six feet of statuesque poise, her long, flowing blue hair cascading past her waist like a liquid sapphire waterfall.
Her curves, perfectly emphasized by a scarlet dress that screamed money and danger, drew eyes whether you wanted them to or not. Three men in black trailed her like shadows, their gazes constantly sweeping the room, their hands ready at their sides.
They moved with a chilling synchronization that almost seemed unnatural, a silent phalanx that signaled her immense power. She was like a lioness in human skin, and her very presence caused a ripple of primal fear throughout the room.
Lady Fortuna.
The head of the Ritz Family.
She was known as the Rose. Beautiful, alluring, and deadly. The nickname wasn't a compliment, it was a warning.
She was a beautiful bloom with thorns that could tear flesh. Men who thought they could tame her, change her, or claim her always ended the same way, buried. Her reputation was built on a trail of broken men and ruined rivals.
Rumors said any man who caught her attention was marked for death, a consequence of her paranoid and ruthless nature. And right now... her attention was locked on him. Kenji felt the beginnings of a headache. His Danger Sense pulsed faintly in the back of his skull. This wasn't the kind of "fun" he'd been aiming for. Not at this moment anyway.
'She's Strong'.
"Oh my, oh my, what a lovely situation we have here," she said, her voice soft, almost playful, yet it carried with it the weight of a royal decree. She didn't have to raise her voice to command silence, the entire floor of the casino seemed to hold its breath. The low, constant hum of the slot machines had died down to an almost-inaudible whisper, as if even the electronics were afraid to make a sound.
"Lady Fortuna, welcome," one of the men at the table greeted quickly. His smile was wide, but his eyes screamed anything but gladness.
"Please, Amando, I was just passing through," she said smoothly. "I noticed the game and couldn't help but come take a look." She stopped at Kenji's side, waved her hand, and one of her bodyguards fetched a chair within seconds. She sat gracefully, far too close, leaning into him.
"Oh, that's some lucky hand you have there," she whispered, her breath brushing his ear. The hairs on the back of his neck stood instantly. "You must be one lucky man," she said, her voice dropping to a seductive purr, her hand resting lightly on his arm. The touch felt less like a caress and more like a brand, a claim of ownership.
Kenji forced a chuckle. "Yes, I've been told. Nothing greater than my luck." He leaned back subtly, slipping out from under her touch.
His mind raced. She was a woman currently of immense power and influence in the city. Her sudden appearance could be a coincidence, she did after all onw the casino, so it was not unexpected to see her here, but still. Kenji felt on edge.
She was beautiful, and she had an aura that could drown weaker men and he was sure most men wouldnt care, but Kenji knew exactly what she was, danger wrapped in silk. His Danger Sense kept warning him, and that was all he needed to know. She was testing him, trying to see if he was a threat, a fool, or a potential asset. Her flirtation was a subtle probe designed to gauge his reaction.
Inside, he sighed. "Why me?"
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