HxH: I Will Be Supreme

Hey wassup guys, remember when I said I was working on my main project? and that the Pokemon fic I was doing was just practice to improve my skills a bit? well here you go.

This is a Hunter x Hunter fic that I think is very well planned, and as a fanfic don't expect it to follow the plot, this story is like a 'what if' fanfic. The MC will be totally OP, but don't expect him not to be beaten to a bloody pulp before he gets that power (literally). 

I've read at least half of this book to have enough confidence to say this will be a banger fic, it just depends on the skill of the translator (which is me).

...

"Morittonio, let's move on!" someone called out from the front of the convoy.

"We still need to prepare for tonight's performance," another voice responded, the words carrying across the dusty road.

The circus caravan had been making its way through the northern reaches of the Yorbian continent, traversing the northeastern corner of Yoxin on the familiar route to Glam Gas Land, a city renowned for its hedonistic pleasures.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the path when they encountered something unexpected, a prone figure bleeding into the earth, bringing their procession to an abrupt halt.

Morittonio, the troupe's leader, crouched beside the fallen form despite his members' anxious protests. The weathered performer studied the boy's injuries with experienced eyes. "Can you still speak, boy?" he asked, his voice gentle but probing.

"We're still quite far from Glam Gas Land," one of the troupe members observed nervously. "I've heard this whole region's been descending into chaos. Could be bandits who left him for dead."

The youth lying in the growing pool of blood managed to twitch his fingers in response to the old man's query.

Morittonio leaned closer, his voice dropping to a softer register. "I'm Morittonio, a traveling performer. And you are...?"

The red-haired boy twisted his neck with visible effort, revealing sharp features that, even through the blood and dirt, held an unmistakable allure. His voice came out as barely more than a whisper: "Hi...soka..."

"Hisoka," Morittonio repeated with a nod, reaching down to carefully lift the injured youth.

The decision drew immediate disapproval from the gathered troupe members, their faces darkening as they watched their leader with the stranger. All except one - a young man about Hisoka's age, whose black crew cut and freckled cheeks marked him as distinctly different from the others. He stared at Hisoka with unconcealed horror, as though he'd encountered something far more dangerous than a wounded teenager.

"It's really him," Oboro whispered, his throat constricting as memories from another life crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Oboro, formerly known as Qin Feng in his previous life was what some might call a temporal displaced soul. He'd awakened in this world less than two weeks ago, finding himself already a member of this traveling circus. The realization of exactly where he'd landed had been both thrilling and terrifying, he was in the world of Hunter × Hunter, an anime he'd loved deeply in his past life.

Initially, he'd seen it as a stroke of fortune. Armed with knowledge of future events, he'd planned to carefully navigate this dangerous world, working toward becoming a Hunter while avoiding its many pitfalls. But now, watching Morittonio carry the wounded Hisoka, Oboro felt ice spread through his veins as forgotten details surfaced in his mind.

This wasn't just any circus this was the crucible that would forge one of the most dangerous and unpredictable characters in Hunter history. This story, while not part of the original manga, had been penned by Sui Ishida of Tokyo Ghoul fame, with Togashi's blessing, to explore Hisoka's origins. A detail Oboro had dismissed as trivial until this moment.

"And him..." Oboro's thoughts scattered as Morittonio approached, still carrying Hisoka.

The only small comfort was that this version of Hisoka wasn't yet a Nen user yet, though that thought provided little real solace.

"Oboro, tend to him," Morittonio instructed, already transferring the wounded youth into Oboro's reluctant arms.

"Yes, sir," Oboro responded, having no choice but to comply. He carried Hisoka to one of the covered wagons, his mind racing with implications.

To the others, this was merely an inconvenient detour at worst, fodder for arguments with their leader. But Oboro knew better. He knew that Morittonio was not just a circus leader but a Nen user of considerable power, a serial killer whose reputation haunted the Yorbian continent. He also knew that this man would ultimately die at Hisoka's hands, after teaching him both Nen and the Bungee Gum technique that would become his trademark.

Inside the wagon, Oboro began the task of cleaning Hisoka's wounds, using a damp cloth to carefully remove the blood-soaked clothing. His thoughts kept returning to Morittonio and the future that awaited them all.

"I thought this was just a normal circus," he mused silently while working. "I'd planned to save enough money, build some connections, then make a clean break. Instead..." He narrowed his eyes, remembering that Morittonio would eventually teach the troupe members Nen. Only one girl, Abaki, would successfully learn it - or so the story went.

Tension crept through Oboro's shoulders as he considered his own chances of developing Nen abilities. In this world, Nen was the dividing line between true Hunters and everyone else. Without it, all his future knowledge would mean little in terms of survival.

Having joined the circus only months before Hisoka's arrival, Oboro's position was similar to a newcomer's - both were strays the troupe had taken in. So far, Morittonio had shown no interest in teaching him Nen...

His gaze drifted to the unconscious form of Hisoka beside him, and for a brief moment, a dark thought crossed his mind. If he were to end Hisoka's life now, would it prevent the future chaos this man would cause? Would the infamous magician's reign of terror end before it began?

"No," he dismissed the thought almost immediately. "He's too integral to the story. Eliminating him could create unpredictable changes that would render my future knowledge useless. Besides, I have no justification for such an action, we're basically just strangers to each other."

Suddenly, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind:

'Congratulations, host. You have officially initiated contact with a plot-significant character. Your growth path has now begun.'

'Strive to achieve supreme reign in this realm.'

'Host template created. Loading auxiliary functions...'

A virtual screen materialized before Oboro's eyes, displaying a detailed panel of his physical attributes and potential growth trajectories. His expression brightened at this unexpected development, this would give him a clear understanding of his capabilities and, more importantly, guidance on how to develop them.

The system offered comprehensive advice on training methods suited to his current condition, suggested growth paths, and various other recommendations. It was like having a personal mentor, helping him avoid the pitfalls of trial and error.

"Mostly Chinese martial arts," Oboro noted, recognizing that the system drew from his past life's knowledge base. He decided to trust in this data-driven approach rather than fumbling forward blindly.

"Oh?" A soft laugh interrupted his thoughts.

Looking down, Oboro found Hisoka awake, those narrow eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. For a moment, he feared Hisoka might see the system interface, but it quickly became clear that the panel was visible only to him.

"Isn't it rather rude to stare so intently?" Hisoka's voice carried a playful lilt that seemed at odds with his injured state.

Oboro realized the misunderstanding - while he'd been examining the system panel, to Hisoka it appeared he'd been staring fixedly at him since he regained consciousness.

"As the person who just tended your wounds, shouldn't you be expressing gratitude first?" Oboro countered, matching Hisoka's indirect manner of speech.

"And how would you like me to show my gratitude?" Hisoka's lips curved into a smile, his eyes holding something unreadable beneath his bangs.

"Consider it a favor you'll repay someday," Oboro responded, then tossed the cloth at him unceremoniously. "Since you're awake, you can clean yourself up."

Moving toward the wagon's exit, Oboro paused to glance at the troupe members outside. "Let me give you some advice this circus isn't in the best situation. The leader picking up another stray from the roadside only adds to their burden. If you want to stay, you'd better work on winning them over."

"You're... quite... heartless..." Hisoka sighed softly at Oboro's apparent dismissal.

"Tch!" Oboro clicked his tongue in frustration. Even at this age, Hisoka's mannerisms showed glimpses of the disturbing character he would become. Without another word, Oboro jumped down from the wagon.

Behind him, Hisoka pulled himself into a sitting position, using the damp cloth to continue cleaning his wounds. He propped his chin on one hand, watching through the wagon's opening as his eyes tracked each member of the troupe, studying them with an intensity that suggested he was collecting more than just casual observations.

...

Continue Reading and tell me if you like what you've read so far