The Nostrade Family.
A member of the underground mafia world, primarily engaged in smuggling. On their own, their overall strength wasn't particularly impressive.
However, everything changed because of one person—
Neon Nostrade.
The daughter of Light Nostrade possessed the power of prophecy, a rare and extraordinary ability that earned her immense fame within the mafia underworld. Thanks to her, the Nostrade Family rose from a minor crime family to a mid-tier power, even gaining partial control over certain underground auctions.
As long as Neon remained alive and capable of making prophecies, the Nostrade Family's status was secure.
But if she died—or lost her ability—the family would immediately fall from grace, losing everything they had gained.
Light Nostrade was an extremely ambitious man.
He wasn't satisfied with his current position and constantly sought to climb higher, relying almost entirely on his daughter's ability to do so.
Frankly speaking, it was a little disgraceful.
Because of that, Neon's safety became his top priority. He spared no expense hiring bodyguards to protect her, while also indulging her… rather questionable hobbies.
Inside the spacious courtyard, Hyūga Akira walked in through the front gate.
The vicious guard dogs on both sides immediately began barking furiously—but the moment Akira glanced at them, every single one whimpered, tails tucked tightly between their legs.
He continued forward.
An elderly butler bowed respectfully.
"Welcome. We are honored by your presence."
The butler led Akira up the stairs toward a private room.
As for why Akira was here—
It was simple.
According to what he knew of the future, the Phantom Troupe would fail to obtain genuine goods at the first auction, only to later target the Nostrade Family.
Chrollo Lucilfer would then steal Neon's prophecy ability, allowing the Troupe to avoid catastrophic losses.
Akira's goal was to cut that path off entirely.
As long as Chrollo didn't acquire that ability, he wouldn't know the future deaths of his comrades—
and Akira would have a real chance to hunt them down one by one.
Once Chrollo obtained the prophecies, everything would change.
The Troupe's movements would become unpredictable, and Akira would be forced into a prolonged manhunt across the entire world.
And honestly?
This wasn't a good place to level up.
Early-game progression in the Hunter world was painfully slow.
Compared to that…
Akira still loved his native shinobi world far more.
They stopped in front of a room.
"Please wait here for a moment," the butler said politely.
Akira stepped forward—and opened the door himself.
Inside the lavish room, several pairs of eyes immediately turned toward him.
Akira ignored everyone else and looked straight at the blond youth standing there.
He smiled.
"Yo, Kurapika."
Kurapika frowned.
"…Who are you?"
Akira scratched his cheek and walked closer.
"It's me, Hyūga Akira. This is just my real face."
Before Kurapika could respond, a tall, muscular man with a ridiculous pompadour hairstyle—Basho—snorted.
"Why is there a kid here?"
"Are we supposed to let this child protect people if something goes wrong?"
Basho turned and shouted angrily at the butler.
Akira, after all, looked barely twelve years old at most.
Kurapika reacted quickly, turning to Basho.
"If it's him… he's very strong."
Still, Kurapika hesitated slightly.
The Akira he knew looked sixteen or seventeen. He hadn't expected his true appearance to be this young—about the same age as Gon.
Staring at Akira's white eyes, Kurapika finally understood why he had chosen to hide himself.
Whoosh.
An air cannon sliced past Basho's face, carving a thin line of blood across his cheek.
Basho's pupils shrank as he stared at Akira, who casually lowered his raised hand and smiled.
"Is that enough?" Akira said lightly.
"Don't let it turn into me having to protect you, old man."
Basho wiped the blood from his cheek, his expression stiff.
"…Alright. That's strong enough."
Still dissatisfied, he flexed his arms and snorted.
"Don't look down on me, brat. I'm strong too."
"Let's hope so," Akira replied with a shrug.
Honestly, aside from that ridiculous hairstyle, Akira had zero impression of this guy.
Was he even important in the original story?
"Since everyone is here, I'll explain the contract terms," the butler announced, drawing everyone's attention.
He pressed a remote, and the wall mural transformed into a screen.
On it appeared a smiling man—Light Nostrade.
"I don't care whether you have a Hunter License or not," Light said.
"What matters is whether you can obtain what I want."
"There's one month left before the auction. Before then, I need you to acquire any one item from the list. Any single item will suffice."
The butler stepped forward again, holding several devices.
"These are the data cards for this assignment."
Everyone took one.
Akira casually flipped through his device. It listed various rare body parts—
a reflection of Neon's disturbing obsession with collecting corpses.
But—
A faint killing intent seeped from beside him.
Akira glanced over.
Kurapika stood rigid, his suppressed rage leaking out ever so slightly as he stared at the screen.
Displayed clearly was a pair of crimson eyes.
Scarlet Eyes.
No explanation was needed.
"Kurapika," Akira said calmly, "this is our mission."
The reminder snapped Kurapika back to reality.
If his killing intent were noticed by the others, it would severely complicate things.
Kurapika forced himself to calm down.
Among everyone present, only Akira had noticed.
The only other one who sensed something was Melody—the small, mole-like woman whose body had been twisted by the Dark Sonata.
Akira vaguely remembered that Neon was connected to a future quest involving the Dark Sonata, a top-tier support ability.
"Only after meeting these conditions will the contract officially begin."
As the screen went dark, everyone moved to leave.
Basho grabbed the doorknob—
"It won't open."
The screen lit up again, Light Nostrade's face reappearing.
"One thing I forgot to mention," he said cheerfully.
"Strength is the minimum requirement for employment."
"You'll need to prove you have it—before leaving this room."
BOOM!
The walls exploded as eleven figures dressed in black burst inside.
Everyone immediately tensed, preparing to defend—
Bang.
The eleven attackers suddenly twisted… and vanished.
The room fell silent.
Everyone stared in confusion.
Only Kurapika and Melody turned around.
Akira had already lowered his hand.
Nearby, a brown-haired man collapsed to the floor.
"Next time," Akira said casually,
"hide your Nen better. That was way too obvious."
He turned his gaze toward a dark-skinned man standing among them, a strange smile on his face.
It felt like he was starting to pick up bad habits from Hisoka.
"…Killing is allowed too, right?"
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