Yorknew was known as the city that never truly slept, but these days, it didn't seem to be living up to that. A city of millions, it hummed with a nervous energy, a constant thrum of fear and ambition. The power vacuum left by the Phantom Troupe's and illumi's massacre had birthed a new, bloody ecosystem in its place.
Kenji sat on a pile of unconscious, groaning bodies in a grimy alley, his face illuminated by the flickering, stolen light of a single streetlamp. The air was thick with the scent of blood and city grime as he flipped through a stack of blood-stained documents.
He had taken the papers from a captured informant, a low-level thug who had screamed and sobbed for his life before spilling every scrap of information he had.
He had spent days digging through Yorknew's underbelly, a patient and brutal process. Dozens of thugs had been beaten bloody and killed, interrogated, and left in alleys, gasping for air. Each grunt knew little, but piece by piece, Kenji had assembled a fragmented puzzle, identifying the key players in the new war for the city.
The Crimson Hand Syndicate. Led by Don Vittorio Ferro, a man known as "The Bloody Palm." Back when the ten families were still in a loose alliance, the Crimson Hand had specialized in assassinations and "blood money" contracts, leaving a trail of bodies and fear wherever they went.
The Buor Family. A minor mafia family from the Kakin Empire, now trying to expand their influence. Its leader was Lucian Vexis, "The Silver Tongue," and his group specialized in information brokerage and political manipulation.
The Cha-R Family. Led by Selina Kalt, a ruthless mercenary queen. Dealing in mercenary armies and war profiteering for other regions. They supplied weapons to both sides of a conflict and always walked away richer, no matter who bled.
The Heil-Ly Family. Led by a man named Mirage, they were the city's poisoners, with a dark specialty in drug trafficking. They dealt in substances that flowed through the unseen veins of society, destroying lives and nations from the inside out.
The Xi-Yu Family. Dr. Vassago Mourne, known as "the Sculptor." Kenji's jaw tightened as he read the notes on this one. The Xi-Yu were involved in human trafficking, grotesque experimentation, and the organ trade. He had earned his name for the sick, artistic way he molded human bodies for his perverse games and experiments, a psychopath who saw people as clay to be shaped and broken.
The Ritz Family. Led by Lady Fortuna, it was hardly a hard guess what they dealt in. They controlled the city's high-stakes gambling and debt slavery, their casinos and dens draining fortunes and turning desperation into iron shackles. Men losing everything and forced to work off any debts, then ganter.
And finally, the Nostrade Family. Led by Light Nostrade. This was the only name Kenji truly knew from the anime, the family Kurapika worked for. They dealt in black market artifacts and cursed objects. Kenji let the papers fall onto the table, rubbing his temples.
He had gotten information on six out of the original ten families. The other four, he had learned, had long since left the city, and the remaining six were the ones fighting for Yorknew City.
The four who had left were like mafia royalty, with their hands in other places, so they hadn't bothered with this "small piece of cake" that was Yorknew. That fact alone told him enough, the families still here weren't weak. They were ambitious. Hungry. And the boss left in the city could use Nen now.
It was easy to figure out, given the stories and recorded observations.
He sighed. He was glad he had taken the time to gather this information. Some people would say just charge in and kill everyone, and he would look at them and wonder if they were right in the head.
This world was unpredictable.
Yes, he had watched the anime, but he hadn't read the manga, and from what little he knew, the manga revealed a lot of things, like how some of the mafia families had ties to people in the Dark Continent.
He didn't know the exact relationships, just that they existed, and from what he had heard, the Dark Continent was not a place to be messed with. He was vaguely aware of something about a succession war, but like he said, he knew practically nothing.
But the fact that all the bosses, save for the head of the Nostrade family, could use Nen, as he confirmed, was proof that things were not simple.
He stood up from the pile of unconscious bodies he was sitting on, his boots crunching over the unconscious men, who groaned faintly, alive but broken. This had been the latest group he had beaten to collect more information.
He stepped down, turning to face the pile he lifted his right hand to the bodies and watched as they crushed inwarldy, the screams started as thoes who were still alive started to cry and beg, the space around them folder and surnk before they well all crushed and he let go revealing in the place were the bodies were was now just a lump of meat and blood, lots lots of blood.
He dusted his hand as if wiping away something and left the alley, moving back into the streets of Yorknew. It was a good thing he had gathered that information, had he gone with his original plan of just attacking them, he might have lost and died. He didn't know what level they were at or how good they could use their powers, and he didn't want to find out in the middle of battle unprepared.
Nen was… bullshit.
That was the only word that fit. It wasn't like chakra, where systems and training paths were clearly mapped. It wasn't like magic, where the right formula and mana could bend reality.
Nen was freedom wrapped in danger. Imagination made reality bleed here. A simple handshake could carry a condition that could kill you in twenty-four hours. A tap could hide an ability that turned you into a puppet.
Nen had no proper learning path, so any person could choose how they want to use it.
Kenji couldn't fight that without learning the rules. The system of power was simple at its core, but the advanced applications just got ridiculous. Look at Killua's lightning, a simple element turned into pure speed and power. Look at Gon, a simple rock, paper, scissors transformed into a death blow. And that monster Netero… that Bodhisattva statue of his was something else. Imagine getting slapped faster than the speed of sound. Yeah, not something you'd want.
So, he made his choice, he needed Nen. But wanting Nen wasn't enough. The knowledge was locked behind secrecy. Hunters didn't advertise it. Families guarded it. And if you weren't born into the world, you had to claw your way in. Kenji smirked faintly. Good thing he had claws.
But he didn't think we'd need them because he had something that works regardless of place, age, or race. His Plan B.
For four days, he scoured Yorknew. He stalked the black markets, dropped heavy bribes in smoke-choked bars, and pressed information brokers against walls until their voices cracked.
Whispers of "a woman in the alleys who used to be a hunter" finally led him to a rotting, half-collapsed corner of the city. A crooked sign swung above the door of a shop that looked like it would collapse under a stiff breeze. Inside, shelves sagged beneath junk and trinkets, most of it useless. The air was thick with dust and the smell of moldy paper.
And behind the counter sat a woman. Black hair tied carelessly, eyes sharp and watchful, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She had the air of someone who had seen too much and cared too little.
Kenji stepped inside, a faint coating of dust puffing up with each step. The door creaked shut behind him, plunging the room into a deeper gloom. He felt a dozen sets of eyes on him—or rather, the feeling of a dozen pairs of eyes from the various cursed objects and artifacts on the shelves. He ignored them.
"Hello, my name is Kenji. I was hoping you could help me out with something".
"Name's Naomi," the woman said, her voice a low rasp. She didn't look up from a tattered magazine, but her eyes, he knew, were on him.
Kenji didn't waste time. "I'm looking for help to learn Nen."
The sound of rustling paper stopped. Slowly, she lowered the magazine, exhaling a thin plume of smoke that danced in the single beam of streetlamp light slicing through a grimy window.
"Never heard of it," she said, her voice flat.
Kenji grinned faintly. "Funny. Most people would at least ask what it means. You didn't even blink."
Her lips tightened into a thin line. She took a slow, deliberate drag from her cigarette, the tip glowing like a small, angry ember. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with unspoken threats. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with a tension that had nothing to do with the outside world.
"Get out," she said flatly, the smoke still curling from her lips.
"Not until I get an answer," Kenji replied, his voice just as steady.
Her cigarette hit the ashtray with a sharp flick. " You don't want this. The door to this world opens once, and it never shuts again. You think this is some kind of game? You're playing with fire, and you haven't even felt the heat yet. The knowledge you're asking for gets people killed. Hunters, assassins, even the occasional idiot tourist. Now walk away. Nen isn't for you. It changes you. Once you get it, there's no going back. It's too dangerous. Just leave it alone. The world is better with a bit of ignorance." She stared at him, her gaze unwavering, a silent warning in her eyes.
Kenji stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the shop. The shelves were dusty, the counter scratched, the walls brittle. This was a place clinging to survival. They were just... sad. A place like this, he realized, was one misstep away from ruin. Time for plan B. He stepped closer to the counter, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "What if I make it worth your time? A lot more than just your life."
She snorted, a cynical, weary sound. "Oh? And how much do you have to offer, My time is worth more than some pocket change." Her eyes narrowed. "I've seen fools like you before. Hot-headed, arrogant, thinking they can buy their way into something they don't understand. Nen isn't for sale."
Kenji didn't answer with words. Instead, he pulled a duffel bag from his inventory and dropped it onto the counter with a heavy thud. The zipper slid open. Stacks of crisp, clean cash stared back at her, a stark contrast to the grimy, rundown shop and her own worn clothes. The scent of fresh paper and ink seemed to cut through the stale air.
"Three million jenny," Kenji said simply.
Naomi choked on air, her mouth agape. Her eyes widened, a flicker of genuine, unmasked shock flashing across her face before she could stop it. She stared at him, then at the bag, her mind scrambling for a logical reason. Was it a joke? A trick? She searched his face for the punchline, for a hint of mockery or a hidden threat. There wasn't one. His eyes were dead serious, his expression a mask of cold determination. For a long moment, only the hum of a broken ceiling fan filled the silence, and the rustle of paper as the money settled.
Slowly, she leaned forward, her gaze locked on his, her facade of world-weary apathy cracking just enough to show a flicker of genuine shock. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Three million... for what? A crash course that'll probably get you killed? Nen isn't a magic trick. It changes your life. Once the door's open, it never shuts again."
Kenji smiled. "That's fine. When do we start?"
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