A figure stepped briskly out of the alley — silver-haired, face lined with age, yet exuding a youthful energy.
This was Andrew Berosevic, once a butler in a prestigious household. Back in the day, he had married the family's maid, a union that surprised many. But what shocked people even more was his sudden retirement eleven years ago, right when he was at his peak. That year, he accepted a mysterious job: to raise an infant. In exchange, he received a generous monthly sum — far exceeding his previous salary.
This summer, Andrew had noticed a remarkable change in Jon. The boy had always been a little odd, often muttering strange things, but lately, he seemed livelier. More focused. Even... confident.
Jon had also taken up exercise and was sticking with it. Andrew couldn't help but feel a quiet pride as he turned the key to their house — a spacious place tucked away in the suburbs.
"Yo, Jon. Off for another workout?" he asked.
"Yep! Morning, Grandpa Andrew," Jon replied, tying his shoes before heading out.
For the past two months, Jon had been running 10,000 meters every day using the Ripple breathing technique. He could now complete the run in one go, which had unlocked a new daily task: Forced Breathing Correction Practice.
This task was brutal. Outside of eating and drinking, Jon had to maintain Ripple breathing at all times. More than once, he'd nearly suffocated in his sleep from breaking the rhythm.
Still, the results were undeniable. His once-scrawny frame had begun to fill out with lean, taut muscle. His stamina and strength had doubled — his battle power, metaphorically speaking, had jumped from 5 to 10.
[Stone Free] evolved with him. What was once a linear thread Stand could now condense into a humanoid form, vastly increasing its destructive potential. He wasn't ready to take on seasoned Nen users yet, but against common thugs — even those with pistols — Jon could hold his own.
At thirteen, he could now mop the floor with grown men who underestimated him.
At the entrance ceremony for the new school year, the principal stood on the podium with a mic in hand, brimming with passion.
"You are the blooming flowers of the future. You are the hope! And just over there—yes, that—is the football stadium we're building. Expected to be completed next year..."
Jon stared blankly. Again with the stadium?
Rumor had it the principal gave the same speech every year. The so-called "new" stadium had been "under construction" for seven years now. Most believed it was just a money pit — a tax scheme dressed up as progress.
The teachers clapped like their salaries depended on it — which they probably did. Promotions, pay raises, favor from the higher-ups — all could hinge on enthusiastic applause.
One brave soul among the faculty had once whispered: "The principal holds grudges. Better clap."
Standing among the crowd of students, Jon sighed.
As expected of the manga world… everyone's a character.
Jon felt defeated. In his past life, he'd just graduated high school. Now here he was — stuck in 6th grade again.
Why do other transmigrators get born into noble families, surrounded by maids and power-ups? Some of them are adopted into the Phantom Troupe. Others go to Whale Island and become Gon's sworn brother.
And me? I'm in the suburbs... again.
He didn't even know what year it was. The Hunter x Hunter world didn't use a unified calendar. For all he knew, Gon could be a toddler. Not that Jon dared look into it — after all, Ging Freecss was a top-tier Hunter. If he caught Jon poking into his son's background, that could end... poorly.
So far, Jon had only figured out a few things:
The Chimera Ant arc hadn't started yet.
Netero was still active.
Yorknew City hadn't seen the high-profile murders linked to the Troupe.
That meant... time was still on his side.
I, Jon Berosevic, just want to live an ordinary life.
But sometimes… the world just doesn't let you.
Every school has them — those pests who thrive on picking on the weak. Back then, before I transmigrated, I was one of the weak ones. The kind of kid who got his lunch stolen, his seat taken, and his dignity trampled.
Today, I walked into the classroom like usual, and — bingo — my seat was already hijacked.
A blonde kid named Royer leaned back in my chair like he owned it, surrounded by his little goon squad. His fake smile stretched wide as soon as he saw me.
"Hey, Jon," he sneered. "Where's the gift, huh? You didn't forget to bring a congratulatory present for your senior, did you?"
The whole class turned to look at me.
Another kid chimed in, "I heard you've been working out lately. What, think you can beat me now? You're acting kinda arrogant these days."
They laughed.
They didn't know.
They didn't know Jon had changed.
Two months of ripple breathing. Two months of relentless training. Two months of waiting for this exact moment.
My blood was boiling — but my face stayed calm.
Is this it? The cliché villain-provoke-protagonist scene?And now… it's time to pretend to be weak, let them underestimate me, and then — BAM — the tables turn. Classic.
Royer snapped his fingers, and his boys stood up, surrounding me. Their eyes gleamed with smug confidence.
"You deaf or something?" he barked. "Guess we'll have to teach you some respect. Again."
Danai and Boyka, my only friends here, tried to pull me back.
"Jon, don't be stupid," Danai whispered. "There's too many of them. Just endure it."
"Yeah," Boyka added. "Take a step back, see the brighter future, right?"
Take a step back?
No thanks.
I gently patted Danai's arm and smiled. "Relax. I'll just talk to them."
"...You'll what?"
"If I lose, I'll beg for mercy," I said with a shrug. "I promise."
They looked like they were watching someone march to their funeral.
As if on cue, the two groups began walking toward the toilet — the unofficial battlefield of every schoolyard grudge.
People were already placing bets. How many punches before Jon folded? Would he cry again like last time?
Royer cracked his knuckles. "I learned a few new moves this summer. This'll be quick."
Yeah. It will be.
Five minutes later.
Inside the grimy bathroom, a dozen boys knelt in front of the urinals. Bruised, groaning, and dazed.
I paced slowly in front of them, arms crossed. My shirt barely had a wrinkle. I hadn't even used my Stand — just Ripple-enhanced strikes and years of pent-up frustration.
Royer, the leader, tried to crawl away. I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up.
"You were saying something about me being arrogant?" I asked, smiling politely.
He whimpered. "W-we were just playing…"
"Ah. My bad, then. Let me play a little more."
I gave him one last shock through Ripple — not enough to kill him, but enough to make him think twice about sitting in my seat again.
Another one tried to beg for mercy, hugging my leg like a toddler. His snot dripped onto my pants.
Disgusting.
Sympathy off. Violence on.
Some classmates peeked into the bathroom — and immediately backed away.
"W-what the hell happened?"
"No way... he didn't even use a weapon…"
"Didn't he get beat up just last semester? How'd he become a monster in two months?!"