The first thing Gustav registered was the smell—not the sterile, coffee-infused air of his 21st-century apartment, but damp earth, fermented grain, and the faint, sharp tang of roasted wild game. He blinked, and the ceiling above him was not his familiar white plaster, but a crudely woven mat stretched over wooden beams, letting in slivers of pale morning light. His body felt lighter, smaller—younger. He pushed himself up, his muscles protesting in a way that told him this frame was unaccustomed to even mild exertion, and looked down at his hands: slender, callus-free, the fingers of a child.
"What in the hell…"
His voice cracked, and he flinched. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep with a Hunter x Hunter manga open on his chest and a Toriko cookbook propped beside his pillow—both dog-eared from years of obsessive rereading. At 28, he'd been a struggling food critic, dreaming of exploring culinary frontiers that existed only in fiction. Now, as he scanned the cramped, dusty room—a makeshift shelter in what looked like a slum on the outskirts of a sprawling city—pieces began to click into place.
A tattered poster taped to the wall caught his eye: HUNTER EXAM: NEXT QUALIFYING ROUND IN YORKNEW CITY—REGISTER BY MONTH'S END. The bold, blocky letters were unmistakable. The city skyline visible through the gap in the mat—towering spires, bustling markets, and the faint glint of the Nostrade family's headquarters—confirmed it. He was in the Hunter x Hunter world. And from the way his body felt, from the reflection in a chipped shard of glass on the floor, he was 12 years old.
Transmigration. The word echoed in his mind, equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. He'd read enough isekai stories to know the drill, but living it was a different matter entirely. No magic system cheat sheet, no guidebook—only his memories of two beloved series, and a lifetime of passion for food. He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair, taking stock of his situation: he had no name, no family, no money—only the clothes on his back (a threadbare tunic and trousers) and a gnawing hunger.
"Gustav," he murmured, testing the name on his lips. It felt right—an homage to the bold gourmet explorers of Toriko, a name that carried weight in a world where survival depended on courage and skill. Gustav. That's who I am now.
He stepped outside the shelter, and the chaos of Yorknew's outer districts washed over him. Street vendors shouted over the clatter of carts, selling roasted nuts, steamed buns, and skewers of spiced meat. Children ran barefoot through the mud, while armed men loitered in alleyways, their eyes sharp and predatory. Gustav's old-world knowledge kicked in: he knew this area was a breeding ground for petty crime, and that the Nostrade family's influence extended here—for better or worse. He also knew that within the city's walls lay opportunities for a budding hunter, especially one with a focus on food.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him of his most pressing need. He spotted a vendor selling wild root stew—a cheap, filling dish made from foraged tubers and leftover meat. He had no currency, but he remembered that in this district, people often traded skills or small finds for food. Scanning the ground, he spotted a cluster of silver moss—a rare, edible fungus that grew only in damp, shaded corners, prized for its mild, nutty flavor. He plucked it carefully, making sure not to damage the mycelium, and approached the vendor.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice steady despite his nerves. "I have some silver moss—fresh, and harvested properly. Would you trade a bowl of stew for it?"
The vendor, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, raised an eyebrow. "Silver moss? Hard to come by. You sure you know what you're doing, kid?"
"Grows under oak trees, needs indirect light, and if you boil it with ginger, it cuts the bitterness," Gustav replied, reciting a fact from Toriko's guide to wild ingredients. "It'll add a nice depth to your stew."
The man grinned, impressed. "Alright, kid. You've got a sharp eye. Bowl's yours."
As Gustav ate, he watched the crowd, his mind racing. He had three years until he turned 15—the age he'd set for himself to take the Hunter Exam. In that time, he needed to build strength, learn about this world's culinary landscape, and awaken his aura. He knew that Nen was the key to unlocking his potential as a gourmet hunter, but he also knew that forcing an awakening could be dangerous. For now, he'd focus on survival and exploration.
He finished his stew and thanked the vendor, then set off toward the city's edge, where the urban sprawl gave way to forest. He remembered that the outskirts of Yorknew were home to rare game and foraged ingredients—perfect for honing his skills. As he walked, he spotted a thunderclaw sparrow perched on a branch—a small, fast bird with meat that was tender and slightly sweet, but difficult to catch. Drawing on Toriko's hunting techniques, he crept forward, his movements quiet and deliberate, and tossed a small stone to distract it. When it took flight, he lunged, snatching it by the leg before it could escape.
"Not bad," he muttered, grinning. "First catch. A good start."
He built a small fire and roasted the sparrow, seasoning it with crushed wild herbs he'd collected. The aroma filled the air, rich and savory. As he ate, he thought about his goals: to become a Gourmet Hunter, to master Nen in a way that enhanced his culinary pursuits, to reach the level of Toriko's peak chefs, and one day, to explore the Dark Continent—home to legendary ingredients that existed only in myth. He also thought about Gon and Killua—two boys three years younger than him, whose paths he knew he would cross, but whose goals would diverge from his own. They sought adventure and family; he sought flavor and discovery. Acquaintances, not friends—that was how it would be.
As the sun began to set, Gustav made his way back to his shelter, carrying leftover herbs and a small pouch of berries. He'd survived his first day in this new world, and he'd taken the first step toward his dream. The road ahead would be dangerous, filled with challenges and unknowns, but he was ready. He had his memories, his passion, and a name that would one day be known across the world.
"Gustav," he whispered to himself as he curled up on the mat. "Tomorrow, the real journey begins."