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"Is this Hunter... Hunter x Hunter?" Asked Doumu, dumbfounded, and picked up the manga with slightly trembling hands.

Honestly, Doumu already knew that several mangas that would be released this time of year had been released. And the original Doumu, who was an avid manga reader, just like Manabu, regularly read these things.

Apparently, knowing that the source of where his "powers" originate exists around here is something surprising, even though he already knew that this story existed.

Running his fingers over the manga cover, Doumu imagined he was touching the part where the name of the brilliant creator of this astonishing story, Togashi Yoshihiro, was printed.

Internally, Doumu wondered if Togashi was a deity, even though he also thought this was an absurd question.

The history in this version of Earth's past doesn't seem to have changed much. From what Doumu briefly heard on television, Michael Schumacher, a German driver currently racing for Ferrari, won the Formula 1 World Championship at the Suzuka circuit yesterday, on October 12, 2003.

Furthermore, Schumacher also became the first six-time Formula 1 world champion this season, emerging victorious by crossing the finish line in eighth place and scoring a point.

Moreover, the runner-up of this race continued to be Kimi Rӓikkönen, a Finnish driver who drove for McLaren-Mercedes, and the third place went to Juan Pablo Montoya, a Colombian driver who drove for Williams-BMW - Thus, one of the great events in the history of Formula 1 happened in the same way that Doumu, in his past life, had read about.

Thus, knowing this, Doumu realized that history on this Earth has most likely not changed much. Everything is quite identical, he thinks.

"Yes, that's exactly it." Your friend responded affirmatively, nodding his head.

Manabu flipped through the manga with his thumb until he opened it to one of the pages, which had a bookmark, and said, while handing it to Doumu, "I read up to part of chapter 179, but I will read from the beginning of the volume and describe what is happening here as best as I can. You read up to the final chapter of volume 17, after all."

Doumu touched that respective page, his fingers briefly touching the bookmark before a smile appeared on his face.

"So, did you end up following my advice to use a bookmark to help with your reading? That's great, Fukuda." He said, a bit impressed, carefully closing the manga before raising his arm to the right, with the manga in his hand, handing it to Manabu.

After retrieving the manga, Manabu sat in his chair with his back hunched and a slightly relaxed posture. Then, pressing his thumb on the spine of the closed manga with moderate force, he flipped through the hundreds of pages until he reached the first page of the chapter numbered 176, the first chapter presented in volume 18 of the manga Hunter x Hunter.

Manabu breathes through his nose and exhales through his mouth, trying to concentrate so he can describe the manga's story to Doumu in words. Doumu, on the other hand, remained seated in his chair but listened attentively as Manabu began to speak, while finishing the last bites of his sandwich.

"In the first panel of chapter 176, which is the seventh part of the chapter titled 'Trio's Attack,' Genthru raises his arm, intending to use his ability on Gon by grabbing him. On the other hand, Gon stands still, but he seems to be paying close attention to his opponent's movements." Manabu explains calmly, but his voice gradually overflows with a tone of excitement during his explanation, which Doumu noticed.

"The moment Genthru's hand is approaching Gon, the guy showed an apparently impressed expression. Gon, who is in front of him, has a line of sweat running down his face." Manabu tells him next, and takes a deep breath before continuing to speak. "In the frame after that, it is shown that Gon quickly blocked Genthru's strike with the back of his hand, which hit Genthru's wrist and prevented him from grabbing him."

"Oh, that sounds like a cool scene." Said Doumu, starting to imagine the scenes that Manabu described.

While rhythmically tapping his left fingers on the table, Manabu continued, "Then, Gon pushes Genthru's arm to the side. In turn, Genthru tries to grab Gon with his other hand, but Gon moves away before being hit, jumping back."

"Gon has astonishing physical abilities, and this was evident from the beginning." Doumu made a quick observation, his calm demeanor intact. "But probably, even with those great physical abilities, it wouldn't be enough to defeat Genthru. Gon is at a disadvantage in this confrontation."

"Genthru says, inwardly, 'Excellent moves, but... he still has to think about them.'" Manabu continues describing the scene, but he seemed a little less excited, but a little more focused. "Then, he moves his hand and says to Gon, pointing at him with his index finger, 'You there...You know that I am the Bomb Demon?'"

"Shortly after, Gon responds, 'Tsezugera told me.'"

"Simple and straightforward answers, it's typical of him." Says Doumu, with a disdainful smile, before laughing briefly.

"When he heard that, Genthru asked in a low voice, with a finger near his glasses, 'Oh... So, who told you about my power?'"

"Most likely, Genthru was using Ren while questioning Gon about it, as shown in the same frame. And his mastery of Ren appears to be very advanced and is powerful enough to instill fear in Gon."

"A very advanced and powerful Ren, huh?" Doumu murmurs, while absently spinning a pencil between his fingers with quick movements.

Holding a long pencil between the index, middle, and thumb fingers, with the fingers aligned closely, Doumu moved the middle finger back as if pulling a trigger before rotating the wrist and moving the other fingers out of the way to avoid blocking the pencil's path. Then, in less than seconds, he brought the index and middle fingers so that they were below the thumb joint, and simultaneously bent the middle finger at the joint closest to the hand. Thus, the pencil passed through his fingers in a quick and synchronized motion, impressive enough to be almost hypnotic.

Manabu, turning his head towards Doumu until he saw him juggling a pencil quickly and in sync, whistled, impressed, "Those are excellent moves, Ohno."

"Could you tell the time, Fukuda?" Asked Doumu.

Placing the manga on the table and then pulling the right cuff of his shirt with the other hand, Manabu checked the time on his wristwatch, "It's still 8:22 in the morning, we still have a few minutes before teacher Maeno arrives, I think."

"Honestly, I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to clean the men's bathroom today." Said Doumu. "Besides, shouldn't I be in one of those special classrooms?"

In Japanese schools, there are special classrooms for children with learning difficulties, physical disabilities, autism, speech disorders, and hearing and/or vision problems.

"You should be in one of those classrooms, yes. That's actually curious. And why are you still here, in this classroom? I don't know." Said Manabu, thoughtful, before sighing, looking a bit depressed. "Yeah… This is our last year here before middle school, Ohno."

"And?" Asked Doumu, raising an eyebrow.

"I really don't know how you're going to survive without us if you end up going to a different school." Explained Manabu, twirling his thumbs, a bit tense.

"Dude, I admit that what you just said is kind of cute, but it's also really bizarre and all. And… And I'm really not as lost on the long road of life as I think you might be thinking I am." Doumu says, stepping away from Manabu with an uncomfortable expression. "And it's not impossible that I will go to the same school as you and most of us here will. There are only 2 junior high schools here in Biei, and it's very likely that I will attend one of them next year. Of course, I would still be in a different classroom than you would be, even if you were at the same school as me."

"Uh, thinking about it, it's not so bad. And I could continue reading the dictionary in my free time." Says Manabu, with his hand on his chin, thoughtful.

"Reading a dictionary is a good pastime, and I think it's much better than watching television." Said a soft voice, in a calm tone.

"Hey, good morning, Nagano." Greeted Doumu, while Manabu nodded in acknowledgment.

"And why do you think watching television is bad?" Asked Manabu, curiosity on his face.

"Well, watching television regularly makes you dumber… Actually, it was my mom who told me that before she stopped me from watching Yu-Gi-Oh! I really don't think that's true, and she also thinks Yu-Gi-Oh! is something made by the devil." She explained, disheartened, sitting down in her chair.

Using En, Doumu can perceive the shape and movements of his friend, Nagano Kasumi. She has neck-length hair, a hooked nose, and an average height, and she wears a pair of prescription glasses with large, round lenses. She wore a female school uniform that consisted of an outfit resembling a sailor's uniform. According to her memories, Kasumi's hair is dark brown and her uniform has dark green, red, and white as the main colors.

Doumu is blind, so he can't see colors, lighting, or anything else. Thus, his En functions as an almost limitless perception when activated, which, in his view, allows him to perceive everything and everyone within the radius of his En in the form of outlined silhouettes that were very similar to the delineated contours found in detailed art with a completely dark background.

During the time he maintained his En before reducing its radius from 50 meters to form a circle with a 5-meter radius, knowing he could spend much less energy if his En circle were smaller than its maximum possible size, Doumu could see his other classmates entering the classroom and sitting in their respective places. However, since the first class of the day had not yet started, each of them began to talk about various topics among themselves.

This class has exactly 40 students, including Doumu.

Moving his face forward, as if he were staring at Kasumi, Doumu sighed.

"The real question, in this specific situation, would be 'why wouldn't my mother think this anime is made by the devil?'" Doumu said next, his voice calm, making a quotation gesture with his fingers. "The characters in this anime literally summon some absurd monsters, yes. And some of these monsters are very similar to what she probably thinks these things look like."

"And your mother is catholic, Nagano." Manabu concluded when Doumu stopped speaking, speaking with some level of composure.

"I... I really didn't think of it that way, honestly." Kasumi said, sighing and massaging her cheeks, appearing to feel a mixed sense of discouragement and frustration.

"Well, it makes a bit of sense if we think about it more… I think." Said Manabu, before leaning back in his chair, apparently reading his manga. "In my case, my parents really don't mind if I watch or read these media, as long as it doesn't harm my education and doesn't affect me negatively."

"When did you learn those big words, Fukuda?" Doumu and Kasumi asked in unison, both incredulous.

"Now." He turned his manga, smiling a silly smile and showing that he was holding a small dictionary in front of the open pages with his thumb.

Kasumi and Manabu looked and listened, curious, when Doumu suddenly began to hum a song in a low and melodious voice, in a language they did not understand.

"Hey, Ohno." Called Kasumi, waving her right hand in front of Doumu's face, and Doumu identified a bit of curiosity in her expression. "You… Did you really go blind? And how do you feel now?"

"Well, look at this." Doumu said, taking off his sunglasses and gradually opening his eyelids until he finally showed Nagano the two whitish spheres that are his eyes. "Don't do what I did at home and put your face too close to the box, it usually ends badly."

Doumu rolled his eyes again, and Nagano stopped, speechless and in shock, but also looked at him as if he had said something truly ridiculous. Pushing his glasses with his finger until they were close to his face, Doumu continued spinning a pencil in his fingers, distractedly.

"And I really don't know how I should feel, Nagano. It's inevitable that I have to learn to live with this, as it is my fault that I became permanently blind. This is my penance." Doumu says with practiced seriousness, before laughing, his expression one of amusement. "Nah, the truth is that I'm fine. My body is almost intact, if we look at it from a positive and optimistic perspective."

"What you said doesn't sound positive and optimistic at all, Ohno." Nagano says, with the eyelid of his right eye twitching a little, seriously.

"Yes, Ohno. I told you the exact same thing as Nagano did." Says Manabu, appearing a bit disinterested as he turned the page of his manga, before vibrating with excitement in his seat when he saw the scene presented on that page. "Gods, this is… This is..."

So, within a few seconds, the noises and conversations inside the classroom ceased, at the moment when the sound of a sliding door opening echoed, before the sound of footsteps echoed on the classroom floor.

With slow movements, after placing his bookmark on a specific page of his manga, Manabu put his manga inside the compartment of his desk, without even trying to be discreet.

Next to him, Doumu slowly placed the pencil he had been spinning on his desk next to a pile of objects that consisted of his notebook and some books, and took off his glasses, folding them and placing them on his desk, before opening his eyelids and standing still, but maintaining a relaxed position.

In the chair in front of Doumu's desk, in the same row, Kasumi was putting away an English book in her backpack before turning and looking ahead while adjusting the position of her glasses with her left wrist, but without any tension, whether in her expression or body language.

With En still active, Doumu momentarily expanded his radius, manipulating the shape of his aura until it formed a circle with a 15-meter radius. Doumu's table and chair were exactly in the center of the room, in the fifth row. With this short distance, Doumu could perceive the movements of a figure with hair tied in a loose and slightly messy bun, wearing a sweater with plaid patterns, standing and facing away, near a chair located on the opposite side of a rectangular wooden table, erasing the scribbled drawings on the board with a duster.

When she finished erasing the scribbles on the board, she placed the eraser on the stand. The noise wasn't really loud, but the classroom was so quiet that the sound of the eraser hitting the stand became louder than it should have been.

Then, she gradually turned until her attention returned to each of them, with her arms crossed behind her back. Looking briefly at the faces of each of her students, Maeno Hatsue soon smiled with a composed smile.

"Good morning, everyone." She said.

"Good morning, teacher Maeno!" All 40 students responded in a harmonious unison, their voices resonating in a loud but respectful tone.

If asked, Doumu would not deny that he is very impressed with the education in this country and, by extension, with the school he is attending.

He realized that there are significant differences if he were to compare this school with the ones he attended in his previous life. One of them is that, in this school, bullying is disapproved of.

In his previous life, when he was known as Michael, he had only studied in public schools. And the teachers he had didn't really seem concerned about issues like bullying. However, these guys disapprove of anyone who doesn't arrive at school in a uniform.

Honestly, he really didn't have that so-called uniform that consisted of simple pieces like a short-sleeved white shirt, blue pants, and sneakers. The worst part is that the schools he attended distribute these things not at the beginning of the year, which he thinks would be the most logical time for it, but rather around the middle of the school year.

At that time, he was at home, recovering from surgery. That's why he didn't receive those things and, when he returned to school a few weeks later, he decided he would wear something similar. The only difference is that his shirt was blue, as all three of his white shirts were in the washing machine. He also always wore sandals, as he didn't like the itchy feeling that shoes left on his feet. And unsurprisingly, he was reprimanded for it.

In an explosion of anger and frustration, he ended up shouting at those weak-minded people that what he wore didn't matter, since he was there to learn something useful. And he might have said a few not-so-kind words here and there before being sent directly to the principal's office, but he really doesn't care now.

Another difference is something about the teachers. Doumu doesn't know how things are in other countries, but here in Japan, this profession is really respected.

"Teachers are the parents of all other professions… Or some other phrase like that." Doumu said in a low voice, his eyes widened briefly.

God, he continues to be impressed that students usually wish teachers a "good day" here. He acknowledges that in the country where he lived in his previous incarnation, there were obviously good schools, good teachers, and, of course, good students; Doumu just didn't know where all of that was located.

He basically never left the state where he was born, grew up, and most likely died.

However, Doumu didn't continue thinking about those things for long. His teacher is to his left, staring at him, perhaps for more than a minute and a half.

"Hello, Doumu."

Now, Doumu really wished he had a shovel in hand. So he could dig a hole and bury his head to escape this situation.

He is not embarrassed because his teacher is talking to him, thus making all the other students look in his direction, discreetly or not. He is embarrassed for being so focused on his internal thoughts that he didn't hear what she said before that.

In his previous life, somehow he gained the reputation of being an "excellent listener," even though he didn't know when he started being called that. After that, some nicknames came that he started to remember with laughter.

His friends and cousins used to say that his ears were so large compared to the size of his head that, according to them, he bore a somewhat curious resemblance to the Champions League Trophy.

Before that, they also used to call him "Dumbo," "Parabolic Antenna," "Radar," "Satellite," and, unsurprisingly, "Smurf" - even though his ears weren't really that big.

He didn't miss out on the joke when it came to giving creative and funny nicknames, however.

Doumu laughed briefly before taking a deep breath and lifting his head, "looking" into his teacher's eyes with his milky-white eyes.

"Hello, teacher." He greeted her, flashing a smile. "What happened?"

"Come with me." She said, and Doumu raised an eyebrow, confused and wondering why this seemed so sudden.

Moving his right hand until his fingers grasped his cane, Doumu stood up from his chair. His teacher extended a hand, and he took it.

From then on, Doumu was guided through the hallways of his class until he and his teacher were in front of a door that had a sign, but he didn't know what it said.

The teacher raised a hand and lightly knocked on the door three times. Doumu heard a deep voice saying "you may enter" before the woman opened the door.

With his perception, Doumu could observe the environment he had entered. It was a room with a bookshelf full of books on the wall to his left, with paintings in some corners of the wall, a vase with a plant, and a rectangular table, where a man with disheveled hair was sitting in the swivel office chair on the opposite side of the table.

Doumu released his teacher's hand and groped the floor with his cane until he approached one of the chairs on his side of the table and sat down. His teacher sat in the chair to his right.

"This chair is comfortable and all, but where have you brought me, teacher?" Doumu asked, curious.

"This is the principal's office. It's my office, Ohno." The man said, his voice calm.

"And it's for things like this that I keep saying it was Hamano who broke the urinal, principal Takamoto." Doumu said in response, huffing.

"Your teacher didn't bring you here for that, Ohno." The principal, Takamoto Tadakuni, said, massaging his forehead before sighing. "We will discuss a few things with you."

Doumu nodded, shaking his head.

"You have completely lost your vision, and we were discussing whether we should transfer you to one of the special classrooms." Takamoto said.

"However, we don't think you would be able to adapt in time to a new environment. We are in October and we still have a lot of time until March, of course. However, you have been in the class I teach for almost six years, you know each of your classmates. You are also articulate and have no problems with socialization." Maeno continued. "We thought that, since this is your last year here, you could continue in the same classroom."

"We consulted your sister yesterday, and she said that you are gradually adapting to your condition." Takamoto concluded.

After a few minutes of reflection, Doumu sighed.

"Well, I... I think I'll stay right where I am." He finally said.

A few hours later, at 3:12 P.M., Doumu had already left school. At that moment, he was standing on the sidewalk, near the crosswalk, listening to the sound of car tires skidding on the streets.

When the cars stopped crossing, Doumu stepped onto the street, going straight. However, he was almost hit by a hurried man riding a motorcycle who ran the red light.

With the most adorable and forced smile he could muster, Doumu made a total of seven hand gestures towards that guy, using American Sign Language, before continuing to walk, not caring about the shocked looks three elderly women were directing at him.

When he got home, Doumu took off his sneakers and his uniform before going to take a quick shower.

Doumu then left his room, wearing a white tank top, dark green pants, and sandals. When he returned to the living room, he grabbed the remote control and turned on the television. He found the noise the television made when it was turned on and off a bit annoying, but he didn't mind much.

"... In Washington, DC, in the United States of America, the group known as Friends of Humanity, founded by Graydon Creed, continues to pressure politicians to pass anti-mutant laws."

"What...?" Doumu said, his eyes widening as that phrase spoken by the news anchor echoed in his increasingly restless mind. His hands trembled with anxiety as he curled his body and his expression grew increasingly terrified.

When his mind was finally calming down as he counted a sequence of prime numbers in descending order with a broken voice, the sound coming from the television became less than background noise. Thus, with a shallow breath, Doumu realized that some strange things had emerged from his back, very close to the area of his waist.

"Are those tentacles...?" He murmured, before his eyes shone with a fluorescent white light and an expression of stoicism appeared on his face.

Rising, Doumu "looked" at his power which was, without a doubt, innate, abilities stemming from his genes that awakened only after a traumatic event.

These many octopus tentacles also function as individual brains, with brain cells spread throughout each one, each with highly developed nervous systems.

"I am a mutant." He stated, without smiling, when his eyes stopped glowing. Focusing, he made his tentacles contract until they disappeared, but he still felt them inside his body.

Leaning back in the armchair, Doumu sighs before his face tightens with seriousness.

"If that's how it's going to work, then I know what I need to do."

"I will go beyond my 100%."

"I just need the appropriate limitations."