The slaughterhouse incident had shaken Liam more than he wanted to admit.
Last night, walking past that building on East Town's coast, he'd felt it—a sudden flood of death energy, cold and invasive, rushing toward his heart like a sneak attack from the shadows.
Dozens of fish. Maybe hundreds. All dying at once as workers processed the day's catch.
For a split second, he'd thought: This is it. I'm blacking out. Right here. In the street. In front of Menchi and Ginta. And when I wake up, I'll be seven years old, or ten, or maybe I'll just explode into an adult and everyone will know something's wrong.
Because that's what happened when he "ripened." The death energy accumulated, reached critical mass, and then—pop—instant aging. And judging by past experience, the transformation released something into the environment. Some kind of energy that affected nearby living things.
The grass where he'd first woken up had grown tall overnight. And The leaf he'd used for Water Divination on the cruise ship had sprouted into a branch.
If I'd blacked out in that street, Liam thought, with dozens of witnesses and government agents crawling all over this island...
Yeah. That would've been bad.
But he hadn't blacked out. The death energy had entered his heart, settled there with the rest of the accumulated mass, and... nothing. No pain. No transformation. Just uncomfortable pressure.
So what are the rules? he wondered, sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Jaku sleeping on the nightstand beside him. Is there a threshold? A critical mass before transformation triggers? Or is it random? Adaptive?
He had no idea. No data. Just guesswork and anxiety.
"New rule," he muttered, reaching over to pet Jaku's head. The bird woke up, staring at him with bleary confusion. "No more slaughterhouses. No fish markets. No places with concentrated death."
Jaku chirped groggily, as if to say, Why are you telling me this?
"Hospitals too," Liam continued. "Battlefields. Anywhere with high mortality rates. I'm staying far, far away."
He lay back on the bed, closing his eyes.
But his mind kept drifting to the surveillance birds. Specifically, to the two crows currently following Shizuku through the reserve.
Her back is kind of pretty, he thought idly, watching through their eyes as she walked through moonlit trees.
He shook his head, wiped his face.
Stop that. Focus.
Today, possessing Lumos, he'd personally experienced Shizuku's strength. And as much as he didn't want to admit it—
She's stronger than him. Right now, at least.
The thought stung. But it was also motivating.
Sleep early. Wake early. Train harder.
I'll catch up. Eventually.
He closed his eyes and let exhaustion pull him under.
The Next Morning: Misery Moon Tiger Reserve
The five amateur Hunters Slohe had hired stood at their agreed meeting point, waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting some more.
"Where the hell is she?" one of them muttered, checking his watch for the tenth time.
They'd split up yesterday to cover more ground, agreeing to reconvene at this spot at dawn to share information. Four of them had shown up on time.
Shizuku had not.
"She probably got lost," another Hunter said, laughing. "I mean, did you see her yesterday? That girl has the navigation skills of a drunk pigeon."
"Maybe Blanchett Company caught her," someone else joked. "Arrested for trespassing."
The group's leader—a man named Dago, an Emitter with the most field experience among them—held up a hand for silence.
"We wait until noon," he said calmly. "Give her a chance."
The others grumbled but agreed. Dago had good instincts. If he said wait, they'd wait.
Besides, Dago thought privately, I deliberately left her alone yesterday. Wanted to see if she'd learn a lesson. Get more disciplined.
If she shows up late, I can use it as a teaching moment.
So they waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The sun climbed higher. Morning turned to late morning. Late morning to noon.
Finally—finally—Shizuku appeared, walking out of the trees like she'd just been on a casual stroll.
The four Hunters immediately bristled.
"Do you have any idea how late you are?!" one of them snapped.
Dago held up a hand again, voice controlled. "Shizuku. You're extremely late. As a Hunter, punctuality is essential. This is unacceptable."
Shizuku tilted her head, genuinely confused. "Why am I late?"
"Because we agreed to meet at dawn!" another Hunter shouted. "Hours ago!"
"Didn't you go back to the hotel to rest?" Shizuku asked, still looking puzzled.
Go back to the hotel?
The hotel?!
Five faces turned red simultaneously.
"You went back to the hotel?!" someone sputtered. "You just—you left? While the rest of us stayed out here all night?!"
"Yes?" Shizuku said, like this was obvious. "I got tired. So I left."
"We had an agreement! A meeting!"
Shizuku's expression remained perfectly blank. "I don't remember that."
The silence was deafening.
"You... don't... remember?" Dago said slowly, pulse throbbing in his temple.
"No. Why would I remember something like that?"
Four people took deep, simultaneous breaths, fists clenched.
Dago forced himself to stay calm. She's not lying, he realized. She genuinely doesn't remember. Her memory is just—
—just catastrophically bad.
Meanwhile: In the Crows
Liam, possessing both surveillance crows, was trying very hard not to laugh.
Shizuku's memory, he thought, watching the scene unfold. It's exactly like the manga described. Selectively terrible.
She forgot things she didn't care about at absurd speeds. In the canon timeline, she'd arm-wrestled Gon in the street during the Yorknew arc, then completely forgotten meeting him by the time they encountered each other again later. Just wiped it from her brain like it never happened.
But the things she did care about? Those stuck. Permanently.
Like the Phantom Troupe's rules. Their codes. The meaning behind the cross necklace she'd eventually wear—a symbol of Chrollo's leadership and her loyalty to the group.
She's like a disciplinary committee member, Liam mused. Cute, forgetful, but absolutely rigid about the things that matter to her.
Which means if I can make her care about NOT joining the Troupe...
Maybe there's a chance.
The two crows continued circling overhead as the amateur Hunters tried—and failed—to explain the concept of "appointments" to someone who fundamentally didn't care.
Afternoon: Training Site
Liam stood in the clearing, eyes closed, body wrapped in Ken.
He'd been maintaining it for forty-three minutes now. His record yesterday had been forty minutes.
Three more minutes, he thought. Just three more minutes of progress.
It didn't sound like much. But in Nen training terms, it was absurd.
Across the clearing, Ginta watched with increasingly furrowed brows.
He's improving too fast, Ginta thought. This isn't normal progression.
Generally speaking, extending your Ken endurance by ten minutes required a full month of dedicated training. Ten minutes = 600 seconds = 600 additional aura = roughly 20 aura per day of consistent practice.
That was the standard rate. The expected curve.
Liam had extended his Ken time by three minutes in one day.
180 seconds. 180 aura. In twenty-four hours.
That's ten times normal efficiency, Ginta calculated. Ten times.
Either he's a once-in-a-generation prodigy, or...
He studied Liam's small frame, the way his body moved with inhuman discipline despite looking five years old.
Or he's not actually growing stronger. He's recovering.
Like someone whose body and mind regressed to childhood, and now he's clawing his way back to his original power level.
Is that even possible?
Ginta didn't know. But he was starting to believe it.
Menchi, meanwhile, had collapsed in the grass two hours ago and still hadn't fully recovered.
"You're a monster," she gasped, staring at Liam's still-standing form. "Actual monster."
Liam finally released Ken, exhaling slowly, and wiped sweat from his face.
"Then you need to cook enough food for a monster," he said, grinning.
"Tomorrow! Ask me tomorrow!"
She limped away with Ginta, muttering under her breath.
But before they left, she turned back. "Ginta. I figured out my Hatsu. I know what I want to make."
"Oh?"
Menchi clenched her fists. "I can't lose to him. I won't lose to him. We can do this."
Ginta almost smiled. "Good. That's the right attitude."
Evening: East Town Amusement Park
Liam sat at a roadside food stall, eating his third serving of fried rice while Jaku pecked at scraps on the table.
Tourists wandered past in groups—families, couples, teenagers. Normal people doing normal things.
Meanwhile, I'm a reincarnated thirty-eight-year-old trapped in a rapidly aging child's body, using mind-control tattoos to spy on government agents while trying not to die from accumulated death energy.
I'm living my best life, he thought dryly.
He paid for the meal, counted the remaining cash in his wallet.
It was getting low. Dangerously low.
Between food, lodging, and bribing Menchi with cooking supplies, he was burning through Jenny faster than he could justify.
I need income. But how?
He couldn't get a normal job—he looked five. He couldn't rob people—too risky with all the government agents around. He couldn't sell anything—he owned nothing except stolen goods.
What skills do I have?
Nen. Combat ability. Bird surveillance network. Tactical thinking.
None of which translate to legal employment for a child.
He watched a street performer nearby—some guy juggling flaming torches while tourists threw coins into a hat.
Wait.
That's it.
Street performance.