In a dim, nameless back-alley.
A man with short blond hair lay unconscious beside a Garbage Heap.
"It stinks."
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Kaxia woke from his stupor.
His mind felt off and his body throbbed with pain.
Wounds covered him; who knew how much blood he'd already lost.
"Am I dying? No—I'm already dead. This isn't my body. Injuries this bad… am I going to die again?"
Muddy thoughts surfaced one after another.
He forced himself to stand.
Moving, he could feel how powerful this body was.
A normal Physique would be unable to budge, yet this one still could.
Of course, even the strongest body would fail without treatment.
A lonely side-street.
A Small Clinic still lit in the dead of night.
By now Kaxia looked much better; his wounds had been tended.
Only a rather unhappy doctor stood before him.
Anyone dragged from bed at midnight with his family's lives on the line would look the same.
Kaxia had no energy to care about the man's mood.
He could feel the powerful body healing fast, aided by a strong inner energy.
Something akin to Internal Skill.
Nen Ability.
He already knew where he'd arrived.
He never imagined Transmigration would happen to him.
And the world was an anime from his memories.
Could this count as a dimensional curb-stomp?
Moreover, his scanning device seemed to have merged into his body in some odd way.
[Product ID: 55566]
[Status: Critical.]
[Abilities: Nen Ability ★★ | Fighting Technique ★★★★]
[If other abilities exist, perform self-check and recompile file. Without self-check, they cannot be logged.]
Soldier Scanner—though no longer physically on him, Kaxia could still control it.
Kaxia had lived in an ordinary, peaceful world; after alien invasions, leisure had vanished for years, yet memories lingered—everyone hoped to return to those tranquil days, and those memories became their solace.
The Soldier Scanner was issued later, after conscription—a product of wartime.
He remembered this Nen Ability from an anime called hunter x hunter; the world itself was perilous—might makes right, the strong defy law, and besides human society, Demonic Beasts roam. Hardly better than home.
If his memory served, he had died—horribly. Gear out of energy, he'd been devoured by a ten-metre monster with countless teeth… equipment and all.
Crunchy.
Anyone surviving that would never suggest anything reckless again.
Though reborn, Kaxia's mood was grim—complicated.
His old name no longer mattered—no family, all dead before his eyes; even his comrades were wiped out. Nothing left to cling to.
What mattered now: this body's owner was still being hunted; he'd only barely escaped into this alley.
Kaxia was the name of this world's body, and its memories painted a bleak picture.
The original owner had been a powerful martial artist—definitely stronger than him in hand-to-hand combat.
And Nen Ability as well.
As the pounding in his head faded, memories sorted themselves.
He understood everything.
"Guess I can't tell if I'm lucky or cursed."
Still, a second life left little room for complaint.
Possession, coexistence—whatever; he'd just keep living.
As Kaxia.
First, he had to settle the identity's baggage.
Then develop Nen Ability—strength is survival, anywhere.
In this world, Nen Ability is the core.
Fighting Technique would do for now.
Stamina was beyond reproach.
With this body's Physique, his old self with gear couldn't have beaten it.
He was more than satisfied with this vessel.
'Sky Arena, Mafia, Mikael—if fate allows, I'll settle the score…'
He stayed the night in the clinic.
At dawn Kaxia slipped away without a sound.
The ever-wary doctor and his family finally exhaled.
For them it had been a nightmare.
Outside, Kaxia kept to the shadows.
He could move, but critical injuries remained.
Past experience said even with Nen healing, three days minimum before status changed.
And through the night he'd sensed several groups combing the streets—likely hunting him.
Revealing himself now, while gravely hurt, would be foolish.
Dawn broke, sunlight bathing a lavish villa thick with luxury.
"Still no sign of him?"
A white-haired, vicious man raged.
"I gave you all night—can't find one wounded man?"
As he spoke, a huge hand seized the trembling Black Suit Man by the head, squeezing as if to crush his skull.
The man was powerfully built, arms corded with muscle; his chest bore a sunken fist-print. Had Kaxia been present, he'd have recognised him—the final opponent from his memories.
Also his father's Senior Disciple, Mikael.
"Lord Mikael, give me a little more time, I beg you."
"We've found a lead…"
"We located a clinic he used—just give me a bit longer and I'll have him."
The Black Suit Man paled, babbling in panic.
He knew Mikael's temperament—if he failed to say something pleasing…
Death was a real possibility.
"A clinic—shouldn't that have been your first thought?"
"Hmph. One more day. If I wake tomorrow and you still haven't found him, slit your belly in apology—maybe then I'll spare your family."
"Y-yes, my lord."
The man obeyed unwillingly, too terrified to refuse.
"Now get lost."
Mikael waved him away.
His fury stemmed from his own dwindling time.
He'd planned to entertain his Junior Brother in style—yet underestimated the kid's strength.
Watching the Black Suit Man scurry off, Mikael dropped onto the sofa, still seething.
"You surprised me, Junior Brother."
Mikael refused to admit that years of comfort had dulled his training—and given the kid an opening.
"Don't blame me—blame our Master for offending the wrong people. I won't end up like them."
Under Mikael's orders, his men cracked down; every rat in the gutter was flushed out.
The Bounty on Kaxia kept climbing.
Eventually even some officials joined the hunt.
In this world, nothing is off-limits—pay enough and they'll strike any pose.
What began as underworld money became a reward posted by black and white alike, spreading the news further.
Meanwhile, the cause of it all…
…was hiding in a tenement of the city's poor.
After all the writing, I still want to tell a Hunter story.
Let's set sail again.
Vote if you can support it.
Hunter is niche; the Editor seems reluctant to sign—maybe he's never watched it.
Support it more—if it gets contracted, I'll finish it.