The firelight flickered in the abandoned warehouse, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls.
The day's training had ended hours ago, but neither Roy nor Geto had moved toward leaving.
The cursed air lingered, faint and restless, as though reluctant to let them go.
Roy sat cross legged on the floor, brushing dirt and sweat from his clothes, while Geto leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Finally, Roy broke the silence.
"I… I have to ask something,"
He began hesitantly,
"why do you think the way you do?"
Geto's head tilted slightly, studying him.
The faintest shadow of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but there was no warmth in it, only curiosity.
"The way I think?"
He asked softly.
"You mean about curses… humans… the world?"
Roy nodded, his brow furrowed.
He had spent weeks observing Geto, the way he moved, the way he trained him, the strange mixture of care and ruthlessness.
And yet, something about him didn't fit neatly into the stories Roy had read before.
"Yeah. You… you've saved people, helped people. But at the same time… you recruit others to fight. To kill. Isn't that… wrong?"
For a moment, Geto said nothing.
The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional scuffle of the rescued children in another room, their laughter a faint counterpoint to the warehouse's shadows.
Then Geto spoke, his voice low, even, almost clinical in its precision.
"Wrong and right aren't always as clear as you think. You see a world where people are weak, helpless. A world full of suffering that no one seems willing or able to change. I've watched it. I've felt it. And I decided… someone had to take action. If I wait for the world to fix itself, more people die. Children die. Innocents suffer."
Roy swallowed, nodding slowly. He had never thought of the world in such stark terms.
In his life before, and even in his previous weeks here, right and wrong had been simpler.
Protect the weak, punish the cursed.
But here, with Geto sitting just a few feet away, he felt a pull in his mind, a pull that made the black and white morality he held suddenly look fragile.
"So… you think you can't go back?"
Roy asked carefully, choosing his words.
"To the person you used to be? The one who just wanted to help?"
Geto's gaze softened ever so slightly, though his posture remained guarded.
"I've thought about that. Every day. But the person I was… couldn't survive in this world. I couldn't watch the people I cared about die and do nothing. Every choice I've made since then has been shaped by that. Maybe I could go back… but I'd have to erase everything I've done, every life I've protected, every plan I've set into motion. I can't. And if I tried… the world would just keep moving, and I'd be powerless again."
Roy chewed on his lip, trying to understand.
Part of him felt unease, a quiet alarm. But another part, the part that had been so inspired by Geto's guidance, the careful way he had pushed him to his limits, couldn't deny the logic in Geto's words.
"And what about me?"
Roy asked quietly.
"Do you… do you think I can ever be like that? Change the world?"
Geto tilted his head, studying him as though weighing the question.
"You have potential. More than most. But potential is worthless without understanding. You need to see the world as it is, not just how you want it to be. You'll face choices that aren't clean, situations where you'll have to decide whether to save one or let many suffer. And even then… the right answer might not exist. What you choose will define you, not what you hope to be."
Roy nodded again, a quiet determination settling into his chest.
He could feel the weight of the world, the gravity of Geto's perspective, pressing against him.
And yet, the fire of his own resolve didn't falter.
"I… I think I understand. Or at least I want to. I want to learn from you… but I don't want to lose myself."
Geto's eyes met his, sharp and unwavering.
"Good. Don't lose yourself. That's the first thing anyone like us has to protect. Remember, Roy, power is meaningless without control and without direction. If you can hold onto who you are while wielding it… then maybe, just maybe, you can become more than even I imagined."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The distant laughter of the children, the faint hum of the city beyond the warehouse walls, and the settling dust of the day's battles filled the silence.
Roy felt a quiet resolve solidifying inside him.
He had questions. Many questions.
And now, more than ever, he wanted answers.
"Alright,"
Roy said finally, standing and stretching.
"Tomorrow… more training?"
Geto's faint smirk returned, just barely.
"Tomorrow, we push you harder. But tonight, you rest. You'll need every ounce of strength for what's coming next."
Roy allowed himself a small smile, feeling both the thrill of the challenge and the weight of the lessons he had just absorbed.
This was not a world of easy answers.
But it was a world he intended to master, one shadow, one illusion, one step at a time.
And as the warehouse settled into quiet once more, Roy understood something else, that the person sitting across from him, the man who balanced cruelty and care so delicately, was a riddle he intended to solve, not by judgment, but by understanding.