HxH : Threads of Ash (Hunter X Hunter FF)

The trash towers loomed high, casting jagged shadows across the alleys as the last light bled from the sky.

Kaito moved low, knees bent, weight forward, bare feet scraping softly through ash. He knew these paths narrow cuts between walls of compacted refuse, where the smell of oil and rot was strongest, where no gangs liked to linger.

But something was wrong tonight.

The air was too quiet. No laughter, no bottle smashes, no shouts.

Kaito paused, heart ticking faster. His eyes flicked to movement a silhouette by the metal spine, another by the old bus husk.

Too late.

They were already closing in.

The first hand shoved him hard between the shoulders, sending him skidding forward, toes scraping sparks off buried metal.

A low laugh, sharp as a crow's caw.

"Where you sneakin', rat?"

Kaito twisted, eyes darting. Three boys. Bigger, older maybe ten, twelve. Faces marked with ash and scars, eyes gleaming with meanness honed by hunger.

He backed up a step. Hands out. No words. Words didn't work here.

Another shove, this time to the chest. He stumbled, caught himself, knees bent.

"Fast little shit, huh?" the tallest one said, grinning. "Heard you dodged Len's crew the other day."

That grin turned sharp. "Let's see you dodge now."

A fist came swinging wild, clumsy, but heavy.

Kaito flinched to the side, breath catching. A laugh barked out, someone grabbed his shoulder, yanked him back.

Kaito's chest heaved, eyes wide.

Not here. Not now.

Heat sparked under his ribs. His vision blurred, sharpening at the edges. His heartbeat slammed louder, faster, a drumbeat under his skin.

Breathe, idiot. Breathe or die.

They lunged.

And something inside Kaito broke loose.

It wasn't magic. It wasn't light.

It was pressure.

A sudden push outward from under his skin, as if his whole body had exhaled without his permission.

A thin film no, a shell bloomed across his body, warm and tingling, making his hairs stand on end. For an instant, everything sharpened: the shimmer of sweat on the boys' faces, the stink of rust and blood, the glow of the fading sky.

A hand struck his shoulder hard, hard enough to bruise, maybe break. But the blow dulled against something unseen.

Kaito gasped. His knees wobbled. His vision pulsed.

Ten.

Raw, messy, instinctive but real.

They didn't notice at first. Just laughed when he staggered back, breathless, eyes wide.

But Kaito felt it.

His skin hummed, alive in a way it had never been. His blood roared in his ears, but underneath that was a quiet line of focus, threading through his limbs.

He turned. Ran.

One of them reached fingers grazed his back but slipped, cursing as Kaito darted sideways, under a pipe, through a gap too narrow for them to follow.

Footsteps thundered after him, then faltered. A boot scraped metal. A hissed curse.

Kaito didn't look back.

He collapsed behind a rusted-out vending machine half a mile away, chest heaving, mouth open wide to the night air.

His arms shook. His legs buckled. His vision swam with dark spots, but the glow under his skin lingered, soft, twitching at the edges.

Kaito pressed his forehead to his knees. His teeth bared in something half-smile, half-snarl.

Nen.

It was real.

Not just in memory. Not just in theory. Not just in dreams of another world.

Here. In his breath. In his bones. In his skin.

He laughed, breathless, a cracked sound in the night.

The air around him trembled faintly, the last flickers of Ten shivering across his shoulders before fading.

Tomorrow, the gangs would hunt again. Tomorrow, his ribs would ache, his feet would bleed, his belly would hollow.

But tonight, under the broken moonlight, Kaito wrapped his arms tighter around himself, teeth pressed to the sharp curve of his knee, eyes burning.

He was small. But he wouldn't stay small.

He had found his spark.