HunterxHunter: Reborn With Crazy Potential

I wait a few minutes, then hear a knock at my door. I open it, and there stands a short, striking woman with messy pink hair tied up. Her piercing blue eyes seem to scan me, sizing me up in an instant. She's dressed like a modern-day kunoichi sleek, practical, and ready for anything. She crosses her arms, her gaze hard as steel.

"Are you the one who called about the missing arm?" she asks, her voice gruff.

I nod. "Yeah."

Without a second thought, she steps inside, brushing past me like she owns the place. "Let's talk some business, then I can stitch it back together."

"So it'll be 40 million Jenny for the right arm, and another 5 million for the stitching."

I reach into my pocket, pull out a thick stack of cash, and hand it over without hesitation. "Seems fair."

She pockets the money with a nod, her eyes sharp. "You're not just paying for my skill," she says, "but for the rarity of this work. Not many can regrow an arm, let alone find someone else to do it."

I roll up my sleeve, revealing the stump.

She doesn't even flinch as her hands move with precision, the needle and thread weaving through my skin. She glances up, her eyes briefly meeting mine.

"You're lucky," she mutters a hint of surprise in her voice. "Not many survive a fight with that idiot Hisoka and live to talk about it if he's not intrigued about them."

I smirk, my teeth flashing. "Luck had nothing to do with it. It was all about technique."

She raises an eyebrow but says nothing, her fingers working quickly. "Well, whatever you did, it worked. I've seen fighters fall apart with one blow from that clown. You must be stronger than you look."

She finishes stitching me up and steps back. "There. Good as new… for now."

The hours slip by as I sit in quiet contemplation. My mind races with possibilities, new ideas blooming with every thought. Watching Machi's hands move with such ease, I realized that I could do something similar. Take what I've learned so far and turn it into something even stronger. I could combine the Hatsu I've been training with the one I've been developing for the future specifically for when I have subordinates to command.

Lately, my mind has been consumed with bigger plans. Becoming a mafia boss feels within reach soon. It's a long game, but I'll play it. And then there's the Succession War. The thought of stepping into it makes my pulse quicken, the more I think about it, the more appealing it becomes. By then, I should be strong enough to tear through all the other princes, clearing the way for my own future. But for now, I have to focus on what's right in front of me.

I stand up, pacing the room, my thoughts sharpening. Becoming a Floor Master seems like the next logical step, But which one should I challenge?

The name Kanjiru comes to mind. "Kanjiru," I mutter, a smirk tugging at my lips. He's the most annoying, stupid-looking Floor Master I know. And from what I've seen in the movie, he's weak.

"Catfish Tendrils," the tendrils he shoots from his mouth. In the movie, they barely cracked the floor. A joke. It's going to be an easy ticket.

I look out the window, the city sprawled under me, and a determined smile curls on my lips. I'll challenge him. It's the perfect time.

Finally, the day arrives and as the challenge begins, I waste no time. I charge straight at Kanjiru, moving faster than he can react. My foot barely touches the ground as I close the distance in an instant.

He stumbles back, wide-eyed, and tries to shoot out his Catfish Tendrils those ridiculous, flailing ropes of flesh that he calls a "Hatsu" The tendrils whip through the air, but they're slow I weave through them with ease, barely breaking my stride.

He looks surprised. Honestly, I'm not. I've seen the movie. These things are a joke.

In one fluid motion, I drop into a low stance and unleash a shadow-enhanced punch. My fist collides with Kanjiru's face before he even has time to blink. The impact is so clean and quick that he doesn't even get a chance to react. His body goes limp, his face caving in from the force, and he crashes to the ground in a crumpled heap.

One punch. That's it.

I stand over him, unfazed, as the crowd watches in stunned silence.

I glance around at the onlookers, a cold smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "Is this the level of the floor masters?" I say, my voice laced with scorn. "Most of these 'masters' couldn't even take down a kid that's been trained decently." I give Kanjiru's unconscious body a half-hearted kick, just to make sure he's out cold.

 With Kanjiru's defeat, I'm officially a Floor Master. I stand tall, feeling nothing more than mild amusement. It was too easy. But that's exactly what I wanted.

With Kanjiru out of the picture, I'm officially a Floor Master. It feels almost too easy but that's good. It means I have time to focus on what really matters like refining my affinity mastery.

After catching my breath, I start thinking about my next move. I should lay low for now. Focus on my training, maybe even recruit a few good people while I'm at it.

But even that doesn't satisfy me. My mind is already moving forward. I'll go create a mafia family then recruit in Meteor City.

The Gordeau Desert stretches before me, the heat intense but bearable. As I walk, I can't stop thinking about my Hatsu concept. "Strings of Fate." It hits me like a lightning bolt, inspired by Machi's string manipulation. The idea of weaving my own strings crafted through Conjuration and Manipulation into my subordinates, using them to track their life force…

A twisted grin spreads across my face. "If they die, I'll know instantly. And if they betray me? They won't just die. They'll be crushed from the inside out. Instantly."

I think of Doflamingo from One Piece, his "Strings" and a new idea begins to form. What if I could use these strings to create a compass? One that could locate anyone with a 'String of Fate' inside them, like a Vivre Card? It's perfect.

But even as the idea unfolds, I know there must be a catch. "Nothing ever comes that easy," I mutter to myself. "There would have to be a restriction."

I pause, already considering the details. For something this powerful I'll need to be upfront with anyone I use it on. They'll have to agree to it willingly, or it won't work.

After a long, grueling walk through the Desert, I finally find myself face-to-face with the Gyudondond tribe. They call themselves the "dancing warriors," and from what I've heard, their battle techniques are based on rhythm, movement, and the art of coordination. They pride themselves on being unpredictable in combat, using their dances to both evade and strike with precision. But I'm not here to watch them dance I'm here to break them down showing them what true strength looks like and then build them back up as my mafia faction.

I step into the center of their camp, my eyes scanning the gathered warriors. The leader, an older man with a beard that flows like the winds of battle, meets my gaze. He doesn't speak, just watches, waiting for something.

"Join me and together we will rule the world," I say to the elder

some of the younger boys snicker so I go on with "Let me show you what I can do. If your impressed join me and if not you will all die."

With a sudden burst of nen in my legs, I launch myself forward. My movements are swift so fast that the first few warriors in my path can't even track me. Before they even realize I'm there, I slam my fist into the ground. The earth cracks beneath my punch, sending shockwaves through the ground and knocking a few off their feet.

The tribe members step back, but I can see the gleam in their eyes there's recognition there. Not just fear, but an understanding. They know power when they see it. They have to survive living near a place like Meteor City.

I shift my stance, lowering my body into a deep crouch, every muscle in my body coiling with tension. The ground beneath me trembles as I prepare for my next move. With a flash, I shoot toward their leader, moving with such speed that the air around me seems to bend. In an instant, I'm standing directly in front of him. He hasn't even blinked.

Before he can react, I extend my hand, gripping his shoulder with enough force to leave a mark without breaking his bones. It's a silent challenge. A message.

"I don't need to dance to strike," I tell him, my voice low and steady. "You think your rhythm makes you strong? Let me show you how a real warrior moves."

I release him, and he stands there for a moment, blinking, caught off-guard by the sheer intensity of my presence. I could have easily crushed him in that moment, but I didn't. That's not what I'm here to prove.

The other tribe members circle in closer, their eyes shifting between me and their leader. The power in the air is palpable now they know I'm not just some wandering fighter. I'm something else. Something more.

"Let me show you something else," I say, stepping back. "This is the power I could offer you."

With a flick of my fingers, I conjure a series of shadow tendrils, sharp and quick as snakes. They whip through the air, so fast they leave trails of black energy behind them. The tendrils move in perfect coordination, slicing through the air and narrowly missing the tribe members just a show of what I could do, a clear demonstration of control and precision.

The warriors watch, captivated. They're no longer just seeing brute strength they're seeing the versatility and the deadliness in my power.

When I'm finished, I let the tendrils vanish, my expression calm. "I could have easily killed every last one of you by now. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to offer you something more than what you have now. Together, we could be unstoppable."

I turn back to the leader, locking eyes with him. "Join me. And you'll be more than just warriors dancing to the spirits. You'll be a part of something greater."

For a long moment, he doesn't speak, just stands there, considering. I can feel the tension in the air, but I know I've made my point. Power isn't just about strength it's about control, discipline, and vision. And I have all three.

Finally, the leader nods. "You've shown me enough. We will follow you."

Months pass. I perfect my "Strings of Fate," slowly, testing it on my new tribe. The restriction is clear full disclosure, and full consent. They must agree, or it won't work.