Hunter X Hunter : The Boundary

Chapter 10: Meditation

The late spring sky hung low with clouds, and the skylights of the Tower City Public Library's East Branch diffused a dim, yellow light. The rustle of turning pages was the only sound among the silent bookshelves.

Ryan sat in the last row of the children's section, a book open before him titled "Introduction to Mind and Body."

It was a worn booklet, its cover faded, found in a broken crate in a forgotten corner of the library. He had assumed it was nonsense, but the fifth chapter heading had stopped him cold:

"Regulating the Breath and Guiding the Will."

The page contained no illustrations, only simple, structured text. It described progressing from "entering tranquility through breath" to "observing the body with closed eyes," and finally, to "unifying the mind and will" to achieve an "undisturbed spirit."

Though it never used the word "Nen," it clearly described a process where the spirit could be trained to command the flow of internal energy.

Ryan's gaze lingered on the text for a long time. This wasn't Nen, not exactly— but he knew, with an acute sense of certainty, that it wasn't just nonsense. He borrowed the book, tucking it inside his homework notebook.

That night, he added a new, silent component to his training.

After dinner, he would spread an old cushion on the floor, sit cross-legged, and close his eyes. At first, it was a battle. His breathing was erratic, his legs would go numb, and his mind refused to be still.

But he didn't give up. He treated this practice with the same discipline as his physical regimen. His notebook became a log of this new, internal battle:

Day 1: Attention maintained for 2 minutes, 41 seconds.

Day 4: First successful 5-minute breath control segment.

Day 10: Maintained a state of no distraction for over 8 minutes.

Day 15: Abdominal breathing now natural. Consciousness clear.

Meditation felt completely different from physical training. It wasn't about overcoming or confronting, but about allowing himself to stop and listen to the echoes within his own body.

He began to feel a subtle but profound shift. He could actively slow his heart rate when it raced. He could pull himself back from the edge of anger. He could listen to a full lecture without a single lapse in concentration.

This was growth beyond mere strength. It felt closer to the essence of what it meant to be truly powerful. One day in class, a minor squabble broke out. The room filled with noise and chaos.

Yet Ryan sat in the middle of it all, completely undisturbed, watching the events unfold as if from another dimension.

That night, he wrote: "To move without chaos is strength. To be still without dissolving is mind."

By June, he had been meditating for thirty days. He could now sit for over fifteen minutes, his body still and his mind calm. He began the next phase: conscious perception.

During meditation, he would focus his entire will on a single point in his body—the space three inches below his navel, his chest, the artery in his wrist.

It wasn't to absorb the qi in Heaven and Earth, instead it was to forge pathways. He reasoned that if Nen originated from the connection between will and body, he first needed to establish a 'sense of direction' for his consciousness.

His will was like water, and every day, he was slowly, patiently carving a channel for it to flow.

The effects rippled out into his life. His teacher noted his unshakable focus. His parents noticed he seemed "quieter"—not sullen, but possessing a deep, unshakable calmness.

"Are you cultivating the Dao in there?" his father once joked.

Ryan looked up and smiled. "I'm training my focus, so I don't make mistakes."

They shook their heads but felt relieved. He hadn't become obsessive or strange, just more steadfast than any child they had ever known. His composure shifted their perception. He wasn't just a boy who trained; he was a child who was sensible, quiet, and uniquely clever.

Only Ryan knew he had reached a new milestone.

That day, while in a state of deep relaxation, he successfully held his consciousness on a single point—the tips of his fingers—for over four minutes. He could feel it: a stable, persistent warmth, a "hot spot" of awareness at the junction of his finger joints.

It wasn't the flow of aura, but it was the first time his body's sensory network had actively responded to a direct command from his will. This was the most crucial foundation he could build before awakening Nen.

That night, his log entry was precise:

Day 32

Results: Duration: 17 min.

Effects: Persistent warmth in fingertips. No heart rate disturbance. No deviation in attention.

Analysis: Mental state maintained at zero-fluctuation.

He closed the notebook, a sense of deep, quiet satisfaction settling over him. It wasn't about how long he practiced, but about the ever-deepening clarity he found after each session.

That night, he slept soundly. What meditation had given him was not light or power, but the foundation to build himself into a mountain, stable and unmovable, before the coming storm.