Hunter X Hunter : The Boundary

Chapter 13: A Will of Stone

Winter in Tower City was dry and cold. At six in the morning, the streets were still dim, and a biting wind swept through the gaps between the tall buildings. Most children were asleep.

Ryan, now ten years old, was already finishing his second lap.

He ran along the road outside the residential area, pace steady and breathing even. A simple weighted vest kept his muscles in a state of constant, low-level tension.

For years, running had been the one daily activity he never skipped. It wasn't just a warm-up; stamina is the foundation for one to do a lot of things.

His routine was an unbreakable law. After his run came fifteen minutes of joint warm-ups and core strength exercises. Then, he would wash, eat, and leave for school on time.

School was the only part of his day that required camouflage. He maintained top grades but never competed or showed off. Teachers liked his steady demeanor; students regarded him with a mix of respect and awe. They didn't bully him, but they didn't approach him either.

After school, he went straight to his backyard, changed his clothes, and entered the second phase of his training: strength and reaction. His system had evolved into a complex set of modules—weighted squats combined with dynamic footwork, evasion maneuvers under the tension of elastic bands, and low-speed striking drills against an old wooden post. Each item had a timetable, a rep count, and a weekly feedback log.

His discipline was absolute. He wasn't supervised, but he had long ago defined "training" as the root structure of his existence. It was what gave his life purpose and rhythm.

At dinner, his mother asked the usual question. "How many laps today?"

"Eight," he answered.

"This kid," his father chuckled. "He's more organized than I ever was."

His mother sighed. "He's ten years old. Doesn't ask for candy and doesn't even want a game console. Just stares at that notebook all day or sits with his eyes closed. How old are you, really?"

Ryan didn't argue. He just smiled, took a calm sip of soup, and said, "This way is faster."

"Faster?" his father raised an eyebrow. "Faster to what?"

"To grow up," he said, and continued eating.

The answer silenced the table. They knew, in their hearts, that their son was already different.

That night, Ryan meditated. The room was so quiet he could hear the faint ticking of the water meter. He sank his consciousness into his body, relaxing his mind, his breath falling into sync with his heartbeat.

He knew he was still one step away from the door— the door to awakening Nen— but his heart was already a stone, completely calm. If asked what his strongest ability was, it wasn't strength or speed. It was stability.

An unyielding will that never tired, never wavered, and could continue indefinitely, even without visible progress.

This was his true starting point— not talent, but will.

For two weeks, he had extended his meditation to thirty minutes. Tonight, he tried something new. He didn't visualize or seek a feeling. He simply, gently, pushed his consciousness outward.

Not the nascent soul leaving one's body, but a slow shifting of his core from his center to the very surface of his body—his fingertips, his toes, the back of his hands, his jaw.

Under his intensely focused gaze, these boundaries became both more sensitive and more blurred. He could feel the flow of air on his skin, but within that flow, there was an invisible barrier, like a thin membrane in water. It was intangible, yet it had substance.

He didn't open his eyes, but he "saw" it— a line, neither light nor energy, that traced the contours of his body, about an inch from his skin.

He knew it wasn't an illusion. It was the outermost layer of Nen. He hadn't awakened it, not yet— but he was standing at the door, his fingers pressed against the wood, feeling the warmth and breath from the other side.

He felt no excitement. He just took a deep, slow breath, withdrew his consciousness, and opened his eyes.

He walked to the wall and wrote on a sticky note:

Pre-Nen Sensation

Time: Meditation Day 326 (Age 10 years, 2 months)

Experience: Consciousness projected to body's periphery. No spontaneous aura activation observed.

Conclusion: Training system is effective. Body has entered a state capable of further Nen contact.

He carefully placed the note in his log. He understood now. True awakening wasn't a miracle. It was a faint response that came only after hundreds of days of tireless, thankless work. 1He had just touched the edge of that glimmer.

The next morning, after his eight laps and breakfast, he headed to school. A neighbor saw him and called out with a good-natured laugh.

"Hey, little adult! Not late again? I saw you sitting in the yard for an hour with that notebook yesterday?"

Ryan smiled politely. "Keeping a diary."

"You're not like any ten-year-old I know," the neighbor chuckled. "You're more like a scholar."

Ryan just nodded and kept walking. He was used to not being understood. They didn't know he wasn't writing a diary; he was charting his progress.

They didn't know he wasn't living a childhood; he was on the 3,650th day of his path to power.