A moment later, a spark finally lit in his sleepy eyes.
Right—why fuss over true or false? Why draw hard lines between real and unreal?
When false is taken as true, truth turns false; where nothing seems to be, something is; where something seems to be, it may be nothing.
"My past-life self is real, Roy of the Zoldycks is real, and Kamado Rōichirō in my cognitive world is just as real…"
"All I need to do is handle what's in front of me and cherish the people before me."
Roy's faint smile returned. He got up and started getting dressed.
It was nearly four. He couldn't skip his daily morning run—he'd treat it as the warm-up for training Sun Breathing next.
Sure enough, when he woke, he was delighted to see "Sun Breathing" appear on his panel—though it was grayed out, with a note: it would only activate once he withstood "the weight of the sun."
The weight of the sun…
Roy pulled on a tank top and shorts and looked toward the horizon. A palest white was already tearing at the darkness. The heat bound up in that light would test anyone's mind.
He had no idea whether he'd pass. He could only start—and see.
He drew a deep breath, pushed open the door, and ran.
Elsewhere, an old man in a rocking chair snored on to the sound of cartoons… In a bedroom tucked into a dark corner off the hall, a ghastly, bloodless face suddenly opened its eyes… And in the master suite upstairs, a man was roughly pressing a woman against the floor-to-ceiling window…
Everyone in the house was busy in their own way. Roy wouldn't slack off either.
Down the mountain and back up again—his daily five kilometers ended quickly.
Back in his room, he looked out across the distance. A blaze of dawn clouds, and then the red sun leapt over the horizon, a rush of ancient wildness and living vigor washing over him…
Moved, Roy closed his eyes and began to practice Sun Breathing.
Unlike Tanjuro, this time he used Nen—letting Sun Breathing guide his aura as it coursed through him.
Heat surged.
It climbed and climbed—move by move, from "Dance" to "Clear Blue Sky" to "Raging Sun"—until it swelled into a mass of fire that seemed to ignite him from feet to crown.
Pain—sharp, savage, absolute. The pain of being roasted alive. It was so fierce Roy almost blacked out. He only stayed upright by slumping against the doorframe.
From the Warring States to the Edo era and a thousand years on, only one Tanjiro had ever emerged—that was how high the bar stood.
"I want this rotten age reduced to ash…"
"I want sunlight blazing so the vermin have nowhere to crawl…"
"I want to borrow the sun's true fire to burn away all darkness and cut down every demon…"
In the haze, on the verge of passing out from pain, Roy seemed to hear someone murmuring in a dream. A figure had appeared in his pupils without his noticing—
A swordsman with a flute.
Deep red hair, flame-like markings licking his brow. He stood quietly at the end of time itself, looking at Roy with a gentle smile, saying something that sounded like—
"Those who pursue the Way to its end meet at the same place."
"Brother, I told you—don't worry about the breathing styles being lost. You see it now."
Yoriichi Tsugikuni… the figure looked so much like him…
Roy half recognized the face—then his body tipped, sliding down the doorpost to the floor.
The killing heat ebbed. Freed at last, Roy sucked air in great gulps, completely spent.
At least the pain wasn't for nothing. His panel chimed comfortingly:
[Notice: "Sun Breathing" activated.]
[Current progress: Novice (1/100)]
"So… it worked."
Roy laughed. Sunlight bathed his face; he spread his arms, unable to help himself—just savoring the moment.
It was five a.m. As the old pendulum clock in the corner chimed, Butler Gotoh arrived as usual with the breakfast cart. He knocked by habit, then saw the door ajar—and Roy sitting there on the floor.
Startled, he hurried over to help him up.
Roy opened his eyes—and in that instant—
Gotoh felt a stab of pain, as if a little sun had flared in Roy's gaze, or a laser pointer had flashed right into his pupils. His vision went white—
"Aah—!"
His scream rang down the hall.
After that, Roy's butler was swapped out. In Gotoh's place came the muscle-bound "Barbie"—Tsubone.
"Is he all right?"
"The doctor says it's only temporary blindness. He'll recover in a few days."
"Good."
Gotoh was helped away for treatment…
After finishing his morning training, Roy ate lunch while Tsubone briefed him.
Spearing a piece of steak, Roy frowned. "Double his pay for the month."
"There's no such policy." The old butler clasped his hands and said expressionlessly, "He's a Zoldyck dog. So long as he's fed, that's enough."
"But you, Young Master…"
Tsubone leaned in, his gorilla-sized frame all but swallowing Roy as he asked sternly, "The master wants to know—how did Gotoh get hurt?"
The medical report said his eyes had suffered intense stimulation, triggering a stress reaction and brief blindness.
So what had triggered it?
Silva wanted to know. Tsubone wanted to know. But since Gotoh hadn't given Roy up, Roy would respect that.
He calmly drew a napkin and dabbed his mouth. "As the master of the house, I don't owe a dog an explanation."
"If Gotoh's a dog, aren't you one too?"
Tsubone nodded solemnly. "Of course I am."
Then he added, "But the master is not."
"Then he can ask me himself."
Roy shoved back his chair and stood.
No point in trading words. He respected a butler willing to die for the Zoldycks—but he couldn't agree with treating people as dogs.
He walked straight past Tsubone—
—and also past a hollow-eyed ghost.
Illumi seemed to have just returned from a kill, the reek of blood still clinging to him. Hands in his pockets, he was heading the other way. As they passed, he stopped, tilted his head, and glanced over. "A dog is a dog. People are dogs too."
"Killing a person is as simple as killing a dog."
"Is that so?" Roy smiled coldly and turned away, leaving Illumi a not-so-broad but blindingly bright back.
"Congratulations, little brother dog. At least you're self-aware."
Illumi: "…"
With a soft shhk—
his hand flashed up like a blade.