HxH : Threads of Ash (Hunter X Hunter FF)

The bread was stale, hard as stone, the kind you had to soak in water until it stopped cutting your mouth.

Kaito crouched in the corner of the factory, gnawing off a piece, eyes half-lidded, back pressed to cold concrete. His shoulder throbbed under the filthy bandage he'd tied days ago, but he barely felt it anymore.

His mind was somewhere else.

Not on hunger. Not on pain. Not on cold.

On aura.

Ten had been a revelation the moment his skin had tingled, shielded, alive but it wasn't enough.

Power leaked. Flares of presence. A glow others might not see, but that he knew he was leaving everywhere he went.

He remembered the word.

Zetsu.

Zero. Shut. Erase.

He needed it.

That night, under a broken beam of moonlight, Kaito sat cross-legged on the floor.

Breathe in. Hold. Exhale.

He pulled the warmth inward felt it tremble, flicker, try to push back out. His skin itched. His jaw clenched. His ribs squeezed tight as if his body hated the stillness, hated the nothing.

He pressed harder. Focused. Imagined a hand wrapping around a candle flame, choking it closed.

The flicker dimmed.

Dimmed.

Went dark.

The world shifted.

Kaito blinked.

The air felt… hollow. Empty around him. His chest tightened, mouth dry. He swallowed hard. His senses dulled: no flicker at his fingertips, no pulse under his skin. Just nothing.

But the ache oh, the ache sharpened.

Without aura buffering him, every scrape along his legs, every knot in his back, every crack in his skin sang louder. The cold dug deeper.

He shivered. Teeth chattering, he gasped, let the aura slip free.

Warmth flooded back, sloppy and weak but his.

He sagged, arms wrapped around himself, heart thundering.

Again.

By the time the sky bruised gray and the sun clawed weakly through smoke, Kaito was out in the alleys.

He didn't know why only that he needed real danger. Needed to test if Zetsu could hide him not just from notice, but from death.

His feet scraped over ash and wire. His shoulder burned under its wrapping. His belly cramped with emptiness.

Ahead, down the narrow cut between trash towers, voices barked. Boots crunched. Metal clanged.

A gang. Four, maybe five.

Kaito pressed flat to the wall, heart hammering, pulled his aura inward choke, choke, choke it down until the flicker under his skin snuffed out.

The world hollowed.

Footsteps grew closer.

They passed within arm's reach.

One boy turned, sneering at something. His eyes flicked past Kaito no pause, no second glance moved on.

Kaito's lungs screamed. His fingers dug into the rusted metal at his sides, nails splitting. His knees trembled.

He held.

Held.

Held.

When the last footsteps faded, he collapsed to his knees, aura slipping free in a messy, staggering rush. Heat spread under his skin, dizzying and thin.

His vision blurred. His mouth tasted like copper. His whole body throbbed with fatigue, bruises blooming darker now without the shield to soften them.

He gasped a laugh cracked, shaking.

It works.

That night, perched on a rooftop under the open rot of the sky, Kaito watched Meteor City breathe.

Below, gangs clashed, dogs barked, fires guttered in oil drums.

He tasted the air between his teeth. Felt aura flicker under his skin, then choke it back, slipping into the quiet. On. Off. Presence. Absence.

His body hurt. His head swam. But his mind burned clear.

Next time, I don't just survive.

I move between.

His eyes gleamed in the dark, sharp and alive.

I control the flow.