Swassh. Swish.
The sound of air being violently displaced echoed through the quiet morning.
In a small clearing nestled on the outskirts of Hakone—a seaside town known for its ancient temples and serene atmosphere—stood a modest home. Once a proud house of craftsmen, it now sheltered just one resident.
Swash.
That resident was currently cursing under his breath, muscles tensed as he swung a heavy alloy staff again and again with practiced intensity. The weapon, thick and unforgiving, whistled through the air as it sliced imaginary foes.
The one wielding it?
Shíhou Qitian.
"Whew... That's enough for morning training. I should go finish with a run," he muttered, dropping the staff with a solid thud.
After a deep stretch, he jogged into the heart of town. Though traditional in appearance, with slanted roofs and lanterns hanging from wooden eaves, this wasn't Japan. Not really. Not anymore.
The world called it Jappon, but Qitian—transmigrated from Earth—knew better.
He remembered his old life.
Running late for finals, tripping at the station—
Bam. Splat.
Train tracks. Blood. Then... silence.
He'd died.
And somehow, he was reborn into the last fictional world he ever wanted to be in:
Hunter x Hunter.
And worst of all?
He was a coward. The biggest scaredy-cat to ever live. Bullied, anxious, and overwhelmed. But after years of stewing in self-loathing and dread, he made a choice: Get stronger.
It was the only thing he could do.
Fortunately—perhaps due to some cosmic accident—his Nen had been awakened from the moment he arrived in this world. A rare blessing. Or curse.
He passed familiar vendors as he ran.
"Morning, Qitian!" a friendly middle-aged woman called out from her stall.
"Good morning!" another echoed.
Qitian returned the greetings with a polite smile and wave, heart pounding from both the jog and the quiet joy of routine.
He'd lived a good life here. Born into a respected family, trained as a blacksmith, had a secure future. The martial training was just... insurance.
Oh, and yes—he was a natural-born Specialist.
Too bad he had mid-tier talent. Seventeen years and barely any progress. His aura? Average. His combat skill? Functional. His Nen? Dormant. Still, life was good. Quiet. Peaceful.
He paused to catch his breath and spotted a group of children up ahead. Two boys and a girl. One of the boys—missing a tooth—grinned up at him.
"Big bro, look! Look what I made!"
The boy held up a small bracelet, crudely woven together from string and beads.
Qitian inspected it carefully, lips curling into a grin. "Looks good, little man. Keep working, and maybe you'll catch up to my level. Maybe." He chuckled, ruffling their hair before jogging on.
As he jogged toward home, he shadow-boxed lazily.
"Man, life in a small village is so nice. Why would I ever wanna be a hunter? Hah. I hope life just keeps going like this, smooth and—"
BOOM.
His Nen flared—unbidden and wild.
The world twisted.
He was snapped out of Zetsu, the state he kept himself in for constant training.
An ominous pressure surged around him like unseen claws.
A dark aura wrapped around him—malicious, suffocating—and suddenly, beneath his feet, a circular, paper-thin sliding door appeared.
It opened.
He fell.
And a message burned across his vision:
[Survive 24 Hours in the Dark Continent.]