Chapter One

A loud crashing sound rang out.

Sandwiched between the wall and the hood, my damaged lungs struggled to work as I found myself suffocating in my own blood.

My eyes watered, seeing my red blood splattered over the hood.

Somewhere, someone - a random woman, I think - screamed.

Seconds bled into minutes, time was irrelevant as people crowded around my mangled body.

The driver, predictably drunk, was washed over with regret and I think he could've been crying.

I couldn't tell.

As I heard the faint sounds of sirens, with the meaningless reassurances of a horrified bystander, the world around me slowly descended into a blurry nothingness. The voices and sounds had become distorted and replaced by a high-pitched ringing, as if I had lost my hearing.

I didn't will them to; I hadn't even realised that my eyes had closed until I done it.

And then there was nothing.

...

"... Urgh, it hurts. "

That was the first thought I opened my eyes. Lying on my back, lounging uncomfortably on sharp rubble, I could feel individual pieces of shrapnel penetrating my spine. It wasn't searing, the insides of my body didn't feel as if they were boiling me alive from the inside - like the accident - but the pointed pieces of rubbish pierced into my back in a way that made me want to squirm and writhe, despite feeling tired. That was another thing: I felt tired. The clothes on my body felt like they were heavier, almost pinning me to the ground like weights, and I had almost no ambition to move.

I was on standby, blankly watching the orange-tinted sky in front of me, listening to the soft sound of sand being whisked away by the wind. I wasn't thinking or feeling, just observing. And then suddenly.

"Ah, you're awake."

So focused on my personal thoughts, I hadn't failed to recognize the presence of anybody else. I jumped slightly, shifting so that I was sitting up, scraping my back against some metal but I didn't rip my clothes. My eyes quickly scanned my surroundings for the person. I wondered who the person may be, before my vision landed on someone.

The stranger was dressed rather bizarrely, I thought. For some reason, unknown to me at the time, he was wearing a purple Japanese-looking robe with his hair tied up in a single topknot. His moustache and beard were unshaven, and I likened him to some sort of samurai. This was particularly off-putting to me bearing in mind that we appeared to be in a... junkyard. In the background I could see various piles of dishevelled trash and scrap metal, one of which I had been uncomfortably resting on.

I squeaked slightly, my voice unnaturally high-pitched, as I shuffled back slightly. Apparently, my reaction must've seemed funny to him because he interrupted the silence with a hearty laugh.

"Kid, relax. I'm not going to hurt you." He laughed, looking at me as if I was behaving childishly. The use of the word 'kid' made me frown; being nineteen years old, I was a teenager, considered by some to be a young adult. Not a child. The stranger didn't seem to notice my reaction as he settled down into an easy-going smile.

He relaxed, plopping himself right onto the nearest heap of abandoned belongings. He looked at me inquisitively and asked, "You okay?"

"I-I'm fine." I started before coughing to hide my nervousness. I usually didn't act this anxious, at least not to this degree, but being involved in a car accident and then waking up somewhere entirely different place with an abnormally dressed stranger would make anyone act nervous. Speaking of waking up in a different place, I couldn't help but ponder something as the man slackened permissibly.

"U-um, where am I?" I asked, hesitantly.

"You don't know?" He responded with a look that had surprised me; not one of confusion or annoyance but once of understanding and maybe even pity. "You're in Meteor City."

'Meteor City…?' I thought to myself, wondering where I had heard that before. It felt like I had heard of it before, my chest felt like it was slowly but surely going to burst as I tried to think of where I had heard of it. It didn't sound real but still familiar. The stranger looked at my deep contemplation, apparently not surprised by my confusion, but didn't offer any explanation. Instead, he asked:

"Say, kid, how old are you?" I was about to respond 'nineteen' (and therefore not a child) when he continued. "You can't be much older than ten or eleven, right?"

For a moment or two, I looked incredulously at him. It must've been some backhanded compliment. Otherwise, it didn't make sense, I thought. I turned over slightly, eyeing the shiny remains of a silver car. I froze.

The person in the reflection wasn't me. The person in the reflection's hair was a dishevelled mess with brown hair that had occasional strands which covered parts of his eyes. The person in the reflection's clothes were baggy, wearing dark blue short-sleeved shirt over a long-sleeved grey shirt, with black trousers. His eyes were grey, which to my knowledge wasn't even an eye colour. But the biggest difference from me and the stranger was that the stranger wasn't a teenager. He was prepubescent, looking around the age of ten years old, with freckles that made him look innocent and, quite frankly, cute: the stranger was a child. The stranger wasn't me, not who I used to be, but was now.

I was stunned, barely processing this information. Realizing the stranger expected an answer, I responded with the answer I thought made the most sense.

"I-I'm… ten." I said hesitantly, tugging the end of my shirt down nervously. His relaxed but condescending way of speaking then made sense, it wasn't as if he was talking to a child: he was talking to a child.

"Hmm, what's your name?" He asked, apparently wanting to keep this conversation going. Probably realizing how discomforting it would be for a child - at least from his perspective - to be asked their name by a stranger, he added. "My name is Nobunaga."

That was what set it off. My breath hitched, a cold realization shivering up my spine as I stared at the stranger – a man who shouldn't even exist – with horrified shock present in my eyes. When I was alive, the 2011 Hunter x Hunter had been my favourite anime or at the very least, up there. I almost cursed myself for not remembering Meteor City as soon as I heard it. My mind couldn't keep up with each revelation: how I looked, where I was and who I was talking to.

For the slightest moment, a small part of me was excited at the idea – then a larger part of me metaphorically strangled that small part. This wasn't Gon, it was Nobunaga. A killer. Who I was casually (well, as casually as I could at the time) chatting with. Considering I was talking to a murderer, I immediately felt the need to give any name as to not anger him.

"My name is…" I immediately tried to think of any male Japanese names I knew – I felt like an English name might have sounded strange and I wasn't creative enough to make one up. "M-Mitsuru."

I was at least seventy percent sure that was a boy's name.

He smiled at what appeared to be me opening up. From what I saw of the anime, Nobunaga had been the easiest out of the Phantom Troupe to get along with, very easy-going and down-to-earth but even I knew that behind that smile was the ability to end the lives of many people with no thought.

He observed my guarded demeanour and frowned. "Do you know how you got here – to Meteor City?"

"I-I…" I tried to think of a good enough excuse but I just couldn't think of any explanation. Finally, I hesitantly settled. "I-I don't know."

Nobunaga nodded. Suddenly, he raised himself so he was standing up before striding towards me, and for one gruesome moment I thought that I might die again. What I hadn't expected was for the man to hold out his hand. For a moment or two, I uncomfortably stared at the hand before reluctantly grabbing it, allowing him to pull me up. I stood nervously next to the thief, who towered over me: a cruel reminder of my new height.

The Spider stared down at me for a second, contemplating what he was about to say for a second before smiling a reassuring-looking grin.

"Say, kid. You looking for a home?" He asked, which made me wince: I had no home.

I had no chance to respond before he continued.

"You see, I am part of a group called the Phantom Troupe – a world-renowned gang of thieves." He explained, as if it was something to be proud of – even dressing it up to sound interesting. "We are a group with twelve members – the legs – and one leader – the head – but recently, the person who used to be number 7 died. We need somebody to replace him."

I nodded, although I was somewhat bewildered that he seemed to be asking a ten-year old to join a gang of thieves and murderers. He continued despite my confused expression.

"So, I was wondering: would you like to join? You don't have anywhere else to go." He casually pointed out. "Now, I'm not saying you can join right now – I mean, you can't even use Nen… you know what Nen is, right?"

"N-Nen is… your life energy, right?" I asked.

"Some people refer to their life energy as Nen, yes. But that's not the Nen I was referring to: Nen is a technique which allows one to control and utilize their life energy." He explained, although I already knew. I thought that exposing my knowledge might have raised some questions that I wouldn't know how to answer.

"So, here's the deal: I'll rent an apartment for you to stay in and teach you how to use Nen, and when the time comes, you'll join the Spiders. Okay?"

I wasn't even processing information anymore: the revelation after revelation was just getting to a point that I couldn't understand anything. Maybe it was because I hadn't entirely accepted the idea of living in the world of Hunter x Hunter but I considered saying yes. But even then, I could recognize one thing.

"Why?" I asked. "I- uh... The only person who benefits from this deal is me."

He looked at me with a condescending but friendly smile reserved only for children. It frustrated me.

"Kid, I want you to join the Spiders."

That hadn't answered anything.

"But… w-why?"

He paused for a moment before chuckling. "Because you're all alone."

For a moment, my breath hitched. I was caught off guard, not expecting such an answer from a… killer. I looked at him, trying to hide my confusion but my eyes showed my disbelief.

"You are like us. The Phantom Troupe." He smiled which I suspected was a smile of nostalgia. "I could tell when I saw you lying there in the mud: you're lost. You have no home, you don't even remember how you got here. That's who the Spider was made for – the people who have no-one. You're the ideal member."

"But... you couldn't tell that by just loo-"

"I could just tell." He huffed, before looking at me again. "You didn't answer. Is it a deal or no?"

The choice rested heavily on my shoulders, pushing downwards to the point where I felt like was suffocating,. My mind was slow on the uptake, thrown into a frenzy as my morals argued with my uncertainty. Deep down, the decision was obvious but I just couldn't make it. I accepted that I needed somewhere - anywhere - to call home. He had been right: I was terribly lost. Someone needed to help me adapt to my situation, even if said person was deplorable. The amount of time it took Gon and Killua to learn the basic principles of Nen with Wing was around six months, I rationalized, and they were born with natural talent: the Phantom Troupe would have replaced the member by then.

Maybe I was just trying to make myself feel better for considering it but I believed that I could get out of the deal.

So I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at Nobunaga.

"D-deal."

...

Word Count: 2,170

If you are reading this, then thank you! You've - most likely - read the entire thing. I know the whole 'waking up in a different world' thing is not something terribly original. This was just an idea that I humoured and got so interested in that I felt like I had to write it. Writing is very fun for me and although I know this won't be the best story on Fanfiction. Net but if I'm going to become better at writing, I have to start somewhere.

So this is the main character, Mitsuru. I'm not sure if I should reveal his real name or not, considering it wouldn't be too important. There were many different ideas for how the story should start and I decided to go with this one because this was the most plausible start.

See if you can guess what Mitsuru's Nen type will be and tell me about it in a review. If you have any questions, want to talk about what you liked or what you didn't like about this chapter, please leave a review. I will gladly read and reply to you! Anyway, next chapter coming very soon.