The last two years had shaped Togiri more than he ever expected.
Since joining the family of Julia and Arthur, he had spent his days exploring the vast city of Momo, where Heavens Arena stood as its colossal centerpiece.
This city, a metropolis teeming with people from all walks of life, was but a fragment of a far larger world—one that dwarfed Earth in sheer scale.
The continents stretched endlessly, and though many lands were mapped, even the most seasoned travelers spoke of regions left undiscovered.
The world was vast, lawless in places, and filled with mysteries far beyond what a child like Togiri could yet grasp. But that didn't stop him from preparing himself for it.
At just nine years old, Togiri had already built a rigid schedule. He worked tirelessly in Arthur's forge, hammering away for hours each day, his hands calloused and hardened far beyond his years.
When he wasn't working metal, he was either training his body through physical labor or furthering his understanding of Nen—laying down a foundation through sheer perseverance.
For two years, he honed his Nen, focusing on efficiency and endurance rather than any grand techniques.
He was still young, and though his talent was meager compared to prodigies like Gon, he was determined to make up for it through sheer effort.
But that alone wasn't enough. Despite how hard he trained, he couldn't push past his physical limits without consequences.
The Reviewer System had a healing function. This was, a safeguard that allowed him to continue his grueling regimen and when he firsr arrived on this planet and broke his fists our of anger, this function saved him, but it came with strict conditions.
It could only mend the damage done to his body by consuming three things—his body reserves like muscle and fat, his aura (life energy), or the food he consumed.
This meant Togiri had to constantly eat massive amounts of food just to keep up, and yet, none of that could recover the toll taken on his mind.
Sleep deprivation, exhaustion, and the weight of his nightmares continued to drag at him, making his journey even more grueling.
Still, he pushed forward.
His initial attempts to grow Arthur's smithy and become wealthy had failed. The big firms in Momo City had no interest in a small-time blacksmith, and Togiri learned a harsh lesson about the rigidity of commerce.
Still, that only made him more determined. He took up multiple part-time jobs—heavy lifting, warehouse work, and construction—all in the hopes of accumulating enough funds to make things work in the future.
But the weight of it all did not go unnoticed.
He was working four jobs, learning a dozen martial arts, training his Nen, attending school all while slowly climbing the ranks in the Heaven's Arena.This week alone he had slept less than 10 hours in total.
One evening, Arthur and Julia sat across from Togiri at the dinner table. The warm glow of candlelight cast soft shadows on the wooden walls of their home.
Fang sat beside Togiri, his vibrant blue eyes glinting in the dim light, his fire-red hair almost glowing in contrast to Togiri's short brown hair.
The difference between them was stark—where Fang radiated vitality and youthful brightness, Togiri's deep brown eyes, nearly black, held an eerie lifelessness that unsettled even those closest to him.
Arthur set down his fork, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. His usually stern face was etched with concern. "Togiri," he began, voice steady yet firm.
"We've let you work in the forge because we saw how much it meant to you. We even got used to your training, knowing it was important to you. But the last few months…" he sighed, shaking his head. "You've taken on too much."
Julia, whose golden blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk, placed a gentle hand on Togiri's cheek.
Her beauty was timeless, even as the years passed, but tonight her face was shadowed with worry. "You've barely been home except for dinner," she said softly, her blue eyes searching his.
"You're taking on too many jobs, too many lessons. We barely see you, and even when we do, you look exhausted. Even your school attendance has dropped."
Arthur leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Your grades might be the best in your class and skipping school was something we could overlook, but not attending at all wasn't part of our deal. You can't just push yourself like this forever. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"
Togiri met their gazes steadily. He had expected this talk. He set down his utensils and folded his hands on the table. "I talked to my director at school," he said evenly.
"They've agreed to let me take an early graduation exam. If I pass, I won't need to attend anymore."
Fang blinked in shock. "Wait, what? You never told me that!"
Arthur's brow furrowed. "An early graduation? Togiri, you're only nine!" Athur sighed quietly, but it was loud enough for the others to hear.
Togiri nodded. "I've already covered everything they teach. The school was never a challenge for me, and I don't want to waste time when I could be learning things that actually matter." His voice was calm, measured, but firm.
"I have to do this. If I slow down now, I won't be able to catch up later."
Julia's grip on his cheek tightened ever so slightly before she withdrew her hand, eyes filled with unspoken emotion.
"You don't have to live like this, Togiri," she whispered. "You have a home here. You have a place to rest."
Togiri looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I know," he said quietly. "But I need to do this."
Arthur exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his graying red hair. "We're not going to stop you," he said finally.
"We knew from the start you weren't like other kids. But at the very least quit one of your part time jobs and promise us one thing."
Togiri looked up.
"Don't forget that you have a home," Arthur said. "If you ever feel like you're running too fast—if it ever becomes too much—this door is always open for you."
Julia smiled sadly, nodding in agreement. "You don't have to do everything alone."
Togiri's chest tightened with a strange, almost suffocating feeling, like a pressure that had no physical source but weighed on him all the same.
His fingers curled slightly, his nails pressing into his palms as he stared at Julia's kind, sorrowful eyes.
Love.
He knew he was loved—Arthur and Julia had never once told him outright, but their actions had spoken louder than words ever could. They had taken him in without hesitation, given him a home, a place to belong.
They had never once stopped him from doing what he wanted, never imposed their expectations or demands upon him.
They never asked for repayment, not for the warmth of a bed, the safety of a home, or the countless meals he had eaten at their table.
Yet, the weight of their silent sacrifices clung to him like an invisible shackle. The cost of raising him was high, especially for a blacksmith and his wife who lived with an already growing family.
Julia was careful with money, yet when it came to food, there was never hesitation—she made sure he was fed as if he were her own flesh and blood. Because to her, I am.
Togiri swallowed, his throat dry. He had noticed the way Arthur always ensured there was enough meat on his plate, the way Julia always smiled when setting down his portion, even though he knew how much their grocery expenses had increased since he joined their family.
He had overheard their late-night whispers before, the soft murmur of concern about finances, about stretching their budget thin, yet never once did they complain about feeding him.
If anything, Arthur would brush it off with a gruff "The boy eats like a beast, but he's working hard. Let him."
And yet… he couldn't shake the unease that crawled in his chest.
He was burdening them.
He was taking more than he was giving.
'Isn't that what a parasite does?'
A cold, unkind voice whispered at the back of his mind, a thought creeping in from the darkest parts of his consciousness. He tried to ignore it, tried to push it away, but it lingered.
He clenched his fists. 'That's why I have to work harder. I have to be useful. I have to earn what I take.'
Togiri didn't realize how hard his fists had clenched until Julia reached out, her fingers brushing against his knuckles. He flinched slightly but didn't pull away.
"You work so hard, Togiri," she murmured, her voice gentle. "Too hard."
Her hand was warm, her palm calloused from years of tending to their home, from working, from caring. It was so different from his own small, worn hands—his hands were rough from blacksmithing, from training, from gripping weapons.
And yet, in this moment, he felt as if she were far stronger than him.
Because she could give without expecting anything in return. Because she had the strength to love without weighing what she gained from it.
His gaze dropped, unable to meet hers.
Julia's eyes softened as she slowly placed her palm against his cheek, cupping it with the same tenderness she showed Fang. "You don't have to do everything alone," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
Togiri didn't move, but his body felt tense, stiff—like a machine that had been running too long without stopping. The warmth of her touch, so foreign yet so familiar, made him want to recoil and lean into it at the same time. He didn't know how to respond.
For a moment, he thought of his mother—his real mother—but her face had long since faded from his memories. All that remained were echoes of warmth, fragments of a feeling he could barely recall, yet somehow… this felt like it.
The lump in his throat grew heavier.
His vision blurred slightly.
Then—drip.
A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye, falling before he even realized it. It hit the wooden table with a faint pat, a small droplet barely noticeable in the dim candlelight.
Then another.
And another.
Togiri's fingers twitched as he stared at the small, glistening droplets. His breath hitched slightly, his body frozen in place. His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, until his fingertips brushed against the tiny pool forming on the wood.
He felt the moisture smear beneath his touch.
He was crying.
He hadn't even noticed.
He inhaled sharply, his body stiffening, his emotions warring inside of him. He had long since trained himself not to break, not to let himself falter—yet here he was, sitting at the dinner table, weeping.
No.
He couldn't let this continue.
He exhaled, slow and deep, forcing himself to blink the remaining wetness away. His jaw tensed, his grip steadying as he wiped his face with his sleeve. His expression, once caught in the midst of vulnerability, shifted back into quiet composure.
The moment passed.
His grip tightened around his fork once more, and he swallowed down the emotion that threatened to consume him.
"I need to do this," he finally muttered, his voice firm, unwavering. "I don't want to just take. I want to earn what I have."
Julia's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then, she nodded, her hand slipping away from his cheek, leaving behind a lingering warmth that he didn't know how to process.
"Just don't forget," she said, her voice gentle but filled with quiet insistence. "No matter how much you work, no matter how much you fight… you always have a home here."
She didn't try to argue, didn't try to change his mind. She simply accepted him.
And somehow, that made it even harder to breathe.
Fang, who had been unusually quiet throughout the conversation, suddenly grinned and nudged Togiri with his elbow. "And besides," he said with a smirk, "I'm not gonna let you get too far ahead of me."
Togiri raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" He wasn't sure if Fang was spouting nonsense to lighten the mood or if there was something else his confident words.
Fang's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "I started training."
Togiri blinked. He hadn't expected that. "You… started training?"
Fang nodded, a confident grin spreading across his face. "I figured if you're working this hard, I should too. Can't have my little brother outshining me, right?"
Something in Togiri's chest tightened at those words. He wasn't sure if it was warmth or something else—something foreign. But for the first time in a long while, he felt… something close to relief.
Arthur chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the room. "Guess you've rubbed off on him more than you realized."
Togiri stared at Fang for a moment longer before his lips curled into the smallest hint of a smile. "You better keep up then, little brother" he said quietly.
Fang grinned. "You bet I will, my little brother"
And just like that, the conversation shifted. Julia, though still worried, let the matter rest for the night.
Arthur finished his meal, occasionally glancing at Togiri with a mix of pride and concern. And Fang, now more determined than ever, vowed silently to stand beside his brother—no matter how far Togiri tried to run ahead.
Little did they know, this was only the beginning.
Name: Togiri
Strength: 2.6
Agility: 2.4
Vitality 2.8
■Review: 2 times stronger than a regular adult, but still 10 times weaker than a 5-year-old Killua■
Special skills:
[Nen E]
[Killing Intent C+]
[Blacksmithing B-]