Hunter X Hunter : The Boundary

Chapter 20: Flow

The air in early March still carried a sharp chill. Ryan sat in the training room, his posture as straight as a pine tree. He wasn't meditating for stillness anymore. He was purposefully seeking the path of Nen within his body.

For days, he had gained nothing. All he felt was body heat, respiratory resistance, and a slowing heartbeat— but he wasn't impatient. He knew Nen would not yet come because he willed it; it would only respond when his body was ready.

He began by focusing on the six points where he'd felt the faintest traces of aura before: his sternum, his navel, his right shoulder, his elbow, his palm, and the arch of his foot.

He controlled his breathing, adjusted his spine, and compressed his focus.

The process was more exhausting than an hour of physical training, but in the twelfth minute, he felt it— a faint, almost imperceptible inward surge.

It was like a fine thread tracing his ribs, a drop of warm water seeping from his very core. It wasn't an illusion. He couldn't mobilize it as much as he'd like to, but it was there.

His breathing slowed, he could feel the gentle pulse of blood in his palms, and his hearing sharpened until he could "hear" the fluctuations within his own body.

In the afternoon, he began the second phase of his experiment. He tied an old wooden block to a rope and let it drop from half a meter, striking his shoulder, his abdomen, his ribs— but this wasn't about enduring pain.

Before each impact, he focused his consciousness on a targeted muscle group, "sinking" his intent into the point of impact.

The effect was astonishing. When the block struck his shoulder, he didn't feel a blunt force. He felt cushioned. It was as if his consciousness had pre-emptively awakened the muscle, allowing it to catch and dissipate the force. It was a rudimentary form of Gyo.

"What is this now?" his mother asked, watching him from the doorway. "It's painful just to watch."

Ryan stopped. "I'm learning how to make my body obey my will."

"...Obey?"

"If someone swings a bat at me one day, I might not be able to dodge— but if I can make my body contract and dissipate the force so I don't break a bone, I'll have an extra second to escape."

His mother stood frozen. "Don't be so hard on yourself," she whispered.

After dusk, he stood motionless in his yard, attempting to consciously move his aura from his core to the surface of his body. He envisioned it flowing from his center, up through his arms, and into his palms— but it was no use.

Nen wouldn't respond to Ryan without pressure. "As expected," he muttered. "Without extraordinary resolve, I cannot control Nen willingly."

He decided to rest— but as he left the yard, he saw a strange figure at the corner of the alley. A man in a dark grey trench coat stood by the wall, his head bowed, his face obscured.

Ryan instinctively slowed. The man's presence was too... clean. It wasn't an ordinary person standing still; it was a stance deliberately designed not to be noticed.

Before he could detour, the man looked up. "Are you practicing Nen?" His voice was low, but every word was crystal clear.

Ryan stopped. "Who are you?"

The man didn't answer. He took a single step, and the distance between them vanished. An indescribable pressure slammed into Ryan—not wind, but a presence like collapsing air, a mountain pressing down, a cold that pierced to the bone.

He understood. This man was a Nen-user.

Before he could react, the man was on him, his elbow sweeping forward, the force of his approach aimed at Ryan's shoulder and neck. The intent wasn't to kill. It was a test.

But at that moment, Ryan didn't hesitate. His will ignited his body like an electric current. Aura surged violently from his core, up through his sternum, and into his arm, emitting a shot from his right fist a split-second before impact.

"Hah—!"

With a short roar, the air in front of him hummed, as if an invisible shot had blocked the incoming blow.

The man paused, a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes. He actually blocked it?

Ryan's right fist was half-raised, trembling slightly. His fingertips were hot— a thin, almost imperceptible film of aura enveloped his arm, and it did not dissipate.

It was his first true Nen emission. Not in meditation. Not in a simulation— but in real combat, under pressure, forced into a corner where he had no other choice. It was a true state of Ren.

The man slowly retracted his fist. He was silent for two seconds, then nodded.

"Heh, not bad."

With that, he turned and vanished into the night.

Ryan stood rooted to the spot. As the flow of Nen slowly receded, his strength gave out, and he collapsed to his knees. It wasn't a victory— but it was his first step.

No one had taught him and yet the mind, body, and will had made a simultaneous choice in that single, critical moment:

I must survive.

And so, Nen came.