Disclaimer: This work, "Blade of Reflection," is a transformative work of fan fiction based on the universe and characters of Hunter x Hunter, created by Yoshihiro Togashi. All original rights to Hunter x Hunter belong to Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, and associated animation studios. The author of this fan fiction claims no ownership of the original material. The original characters (OFC), plot elements, and concepts introduced in this story are the intellectual property of this story's author.
Chapter 1: The Echo of Silence
The forest canopy of Aethel Glen was a dense ceiling of emerald and jade, a filtering screen that turned the hard afternoon sun into a dappled, shifting gold.
For Yuta Vance, it was a kingdom.
"You're too slow, Tias!"
Yuta's voice, bright and sharp, cut through the scent of damp earth and pine. He scrambled up a rock face, his small, eight-year-old hands finding holds that weren't there, his bare feet digging into the mossy stone. His hair, a shock of unruly canary-yellow shaped much like a rumpled cap, was a beacon against the green shadows. He was the sun itself, dropped into the undergrowth.
He reached the top and spun around, planting his hands on his hips. He was coated in a fine layer of dirt, a spectacular smear of mud across one cheek, and a fresh, crimson scrape on his left knee.
"The 'Shadow Stalkers' are supposed to be quiet," he panted, a grin splitting his face. Below him, two other village boys, Tias and Renn, struggled to catch up, their faces flushed red.
"That's because you," Tias wheezed, "ran straight through the Briar-patch! You're not supposed to do that, Yuta!"
"It's a shortcut!" Yuta argued, his light-blue eyes—the color of a winter sky at dawn—sparkling with mischief. "An explorer takes the fastest path, not the easiest!"
He was always the one to push them further. Past the Old Miller's creek, beyond the whispering woods where the adults told them not to go, and into the dense, uncharted territory that bordered the Glen. He had an energy that vibrated, a restless pull toward the horizon that the other children found both terrifying and magnetic.
The game ended, as it always did, with the sun beginning to bleed orange and raspberry hues into the western sky. The trio trudged back, sticks dragging, triumphant in their exhaustion.
Yuta arrived home last, the scent of woodsmoke and clean linen pulling him toward the small, sturdy cottage at the edge of the village.
He saw her before she saw him.
Lilia Vance was pinning the last of the white sheets to the line. The setting sun caught her, illuminating her like a figure in a painting. She was beautiful, with a gentle face that seemed at odds with the strength in her hands. Her most striking feature was her hair, a cascade of deep, elegant lavender-purple, tied back in a simple braid that fell to her waist.
She turned, her amethyst eyes scanning the tree line, and they landed on him. Her posture softened, and then, immediately, t-stiffened.
"Yuta Vance!"
Her voice was stern, but the warmth underneath it was impossible to hide. Yuta gave her his most innocent grin, which was ruined by the mud-caked state of his clothes.
"Look at you! You look like you wrestled a family of wild pigs." She marched over, unpinning a dry washcloth from the line and beginning to scrub furiously at his face. "And your shirt! That's your good shirt."
"It was an exploration, Mom!" Yuta protested, squirming. "We found a new cave!"
"A new way to get covered in filth, more like," she sighed. But her hands were gentle. "Go. Wash. Now. Dinner is almost ready." She looked past him, down the long, empty dirt road that led out of Aethel Glen. Her brow furrowed, a tiny, worried line appearing between her eyes.
"Mom?" Yuta asked, his own energy finally dimming as he noticed her expression.
She snapped back to him, forcing a small smile. "It's nothing, sweet-pea. Just... your foolish father. He's two days late, is all."
Inside, the cottage was warm. A rich stew bubbled on the hearth. Yuta, now scrubbed clean (or as clean as an eight-year-old was willing to get), sat at the small wooden table, swinging his legs. Lilia moved with an efficient grace, setting out bowls, but her gaze kept drifting to the door, to the encroaching twilight.
"He's probably just fine," Yuta said, parroting words he'd heard her say before. "He's always fine."
"I know," Lilia said softly, her hand pausing on the ladle. "I just... wish he'd be on time. Just once."
The knock on the door made them both jump.
It was too late for a neighbor. Yuta's heart leaped. "Dad!"
He scrambled to the door and threw it open, but it wasn't Kael Vance. It was a man Yuta had never seen before, dressed in a muted gray uniform, holding a cap in his hands. He looked official and tired.
"Mrs. Lilia Vance?" the man asked. His voice was flat.
"I... yes?" Lilia had moved behind Yuta, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her grip was suddenly tight.
"I'm from the Courier Service," the man said, avoiding her eyes. He held out a small, rectangular package, sealed with dark wax, and a single letter. "I was instructed to deliver this directly to you. From the Hunter Association."
The name hung in the air, cold and heavy. Yuta felt his mother flinch.
"Thank you," Lilia's voice was a strained whisper. She took the items. The man nodded curtly, replaced his cap, and walked away into the darkness without another word.
Lilia closed the door. The only sound in the room was the bubbling of the stew.
"Mom? What is it?"
Lilia's hands were trembling as she broke the seal on the letter. Her eyes scanned the page, her face draining of all color, becoming as white as the sheets she had hung earlier.
She made a small sound, a gasp that was half-a-sob.
A porcelain cup, sitting too close to the edge of the table, was knocked to the floor by her shaking arm. It shattered, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet room.
"Mom, you're scaring me."
Lilia didn't seem to hear him. She sank onto the small bench by the door, the letter crinkling in her white-knuckled fist. She stared at the package on her lap.
"He's... gone," she whispered. The words were alien, empty. "Kael... Oh, Kael..."
She crumpled, her body folding in on itself as the first true, agonizing sob tore itself from her throat. It was a sound Yuta had never heard, a sound of such profound breakage that it rooted him to the spot.
He didnt understand "gone." Not really. Not in the way the adult world meant it. He only understood that his mother, the center of his world, was falling apart.
He crept forward, touching her arm. "Mom?"
She pulled him into a desperate, suffocating embrace, burying her face in his canary-yellow hair. Her tears were hot on his scalp. "He's gone, Yuta. Your father... he's not coming home."
And as she held her son, her weeping eyes fell on the package. It was wrapped in simple brown paper, but she could feel the hard, unyielding shape inside it. Next to it was the second letter that had been tucked in the parcel—this one addressed not to her, but in Kael's familiar, strong handwriting: To my son, Yuta, on his twelfth birthday.
A cold, protective fear, sharper than her grief, pierced through Lilia's haze.
Twelfth birthday.
This was Kael's "adventure." This was the cost. The life of a Hunter.
While Yuta was still processing the first shock, his small body trembling as he absorbed his mother's sorrow, Lilia's hand moved. With a swift, furtive motion born of pure, terrified instinct, she swept the package and its hidden letter off her lap. She pushed it with her foot, sliding it under the dark, shadowed space of the pantry cabinet.
She would not lose him, too. She would not let that world, that name, claim her son as it had claimed his father.
Later that night, long after Yuta had cried himself to sleep in a room that felt too quiet, Lilia Vance retrieved the box. She didn't open it. She took it, and the letter meant for her son, up to the dusty, seldom-used attic. She buried it deep beneath a trunk of her own childhood mementos, hiding Kael's legacy, and his last goodbye, in the darkness.
She would protect her son. She would keep him safe. She would lie.