Aokigahara Forest, Jappon – June 11th, 1988 – 11:13 A.M.
POV: Satoru Fujinuma
It's been six years since I was reborn into the world of Hunter x Hunter. A world I chose… more or less. I knew reincarnation would be jarring, but nothing quite prepares you for the slow, helpless crawl of infancy—especially when your consciousness is far from infantile. The first year of my life was a blur of over-stimulation. The Six Eyes, my prized inheritance, came with a cost. Being able to perceive the flow of aura—every ebb and flicker—without filters or control, was overwhelming. Imagine trying to understand a symphony before you've even learned to hear. I used to get constant nose bleeds, I thought I was going to die.
I was lucky to develop mobility early. Walking by six months old wasn't just impressive—it was necessary. Once I could move, I started training. My knowledge of Nen from the manga gave me a massive head start, and without needing an awakening, I began manipulating aura through sheer instinct and trial. That's when I discovered the first major change to this world: cursed spirits.
I'm not sure if they're called cursed spirits here, at least not officially. But with the Six Eyes, I could see it—manifestations of raw malice and emotional decay leaking from the unwitting masses. They weren't born from cursed energy, because that didn't exist here. No, these entities were the byproduct of uncontrolled aura—non-nen users radiating grief, hate, sorrow. And those feelings pooled, fermented… twisted.
Most of the cursed spirits I encountered were weak, malformed things. But about a year ago, I ran into something entirely different.
Flashback: March 23rd, 1987 – 1:00 P.M.
POV: Third Person
The Aokigahara Forest was silent. Unnaturally so.
A boy, barely five years old, stood alone at its heart. His snow-white hair drifted gently in the breeze, offset by the pitch-black lenses obscuring his vibrant Six Eyes. His presence was casual, almost lazy, as he stepped over gnarled roots and rusted remains of old trail signs. This was Satoru Fujinuma—reborn genius, reincarnated soul, and wielder of Limitless.
He came here daily. The deeper parts of Aokigahara were ideal—isolated, untouched, and saturated with cursed entities born of centuries of agony. But today, he had gone further than usual. Today, the air was different. Heavy.
He stopped. Thirty meters ahead, something stirred. His Six Eyes pulsed with a glint of recognition—and wariness.
There it was: a massive presence. Aura thick and cold. Not like the weaklings he'd been cutting his teeth on. This was intelligent. Coordinated. And deeply malevolent.
A devil.
A snake.
Towering over the surrounding trees, the creature slithered into view—twenty meters of scaled muscle, its grotesque face ringed with twitching human hands, all fused around a yawning, dripping maw.
Satoru's expression shifted. "Snake Devil…?" he muttered. "Isn't that from Chainsaw Man? What the hell is it doing here?"
A cold laugh escaped his lips. "Tch… I should've known. That bastard Isekai God's got a twisted sense of humor."
The cursed entity's eyes locked on him. Slits narrowed. It paused, sensing something… off.
"Human," it rasped. "No fear?"
Satoru smirked, brushing dust from his jacket. "Nope. Just disappointment."
Then he moved.
Maximum Output: Blue
He clapped his palms together—an orb of intense gravitational pressure surged to life, swirling with brilliant azure light. At this age, it was nowhere near the level of the original Gojo's output, but it didn't need to be. The forest trembled as trees, roots, and stone were wrenched from the ground, pulled violently toward the epicenter. A thirty-meter radius of devastation bloomed around him, flattening the terrain into a crater of destruction.
Satoru lowered his hands, adjusting his glasses. "Now we can talk."
From the other end of the clearing, the Snake Devil remained coiled, untouched by the blast. Its body glistened with tension, but not damage.
The boy narrowed his eyes. "Tch… tougher than expected."
The creature gagged—its mouth stretching wide as a human corpse was launched like a bullet toward Satoru.
Satoru didn't flinch.
The corpse halted midair—frozen. Trembling.
"Infinity," he whispered.
There was no impact. No touch. The body strained against space itself, stuck in an unreachable limbo.
Satoru stepped forward, his hand casually rising to brush aside a strand of hair. "Your ability is interesting. You can reanimate and weaponize corpses… no, replicate them. They're puppets."
He glanced at the body, sensing its lack of a soul. "That's dangerous. If you'd launched this at a pro Hunter, they might not have realized the difference until it was too late. But me?"
He gestured at his eyes behind the dark lenses. "I see everything."
The Snake Devil let out a screech, whipping its tail and launching another volley—this time, three corpses at once. Each one moved with speed and intelligence, two flanking while one charged directly.
Satoru sighed.
He shifted his foot forward, eyes glowing faintly. The space between them twisted subtly.
Each puppet froze, suspended like flies in amber.
"You thought numbers would help?"
He walked forward, slowly, deliberately.
"I haven't made Red yet," he murmured, more to himself than his opponent. "Still working on the reversal equation. And cursed energy doesn't exist here, so I have to build everything from scratch. Honestly, this is annoying."
The Snake Devil hissed and lunged, its enormous mouth descending to swallow him whole.
A mistake.
Satoru raised a single hand.
Blue orb—condensed and precise—formed in his palm and zipped forward, striking just below the snake's jaw.
CRACK
The force of implosion compressed its jaw, crushing bone and tearing muscle. The snake reeled, screeching, but Satoru was already moving.
Another orb. Faster.
He weaved through its coils, placing Blue with the accuracy of a sniper—joints, weak scales, beneath the ribbing of the aura that protected its core.
With each hit, the snake spasmed. Cracks spread. Its aura began to leak—unstable, disrupted.
Satoru leapt back as the snake tried to coil him in a last-ditch effort.
"Sorry. You're not going to land a hit. Not in your next life either."
One final orb.
He held it longer. Compressed it tighter. The size of a baseball, pulsing with gravitational force. Then, with a flick of his finger, he sent it flying—right between the snake's eyes.
BOOM.
The explosion was silent, but the effect was not. The top half of the snake's head imploded, collapsing inward as its aura dissipated into shimmering mist. The massive corpse sagged into the earth, dust trailing from its ruined frame.
Satoru let out a long breath, staring at the wreckage.
"That was… decent," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Still too slow. I need to finish Red. And maybe think about creating Hollow Purple with Nen fusion instead of cursed energy."
He looked down at his hand. It trembled slightly.
Still too much strain.
"Guess I need to refine my aura control. Even with the Six Eyes, this system's different."
He turned and walked away, leaving the corpse of the Snake Devil behind.
POV: Satoru Fujinuma
That fight was a wake-up call. Not just about how far I had to go, but about the God of Isekai himself. He's not just an observer. He's experimenting—adding variables, throwing in entities that have no business being in this world. And if the Snake Devil was just the beginning, then I need to be ready for a whole new set of threats.
I haven't even met any of the protaganist yet, but somehow I feel like the real story is just beginning.
And I plan to be ready for all of it.