Indeed—Roy could feel Nen coming off Illumi.
It was damp, clammy, cold—like a venomous snake lurking in a culvert, tongue flicking, ready to strike any prey it fixed on.
"Congrats." Roy didn't break stride, tossed the word over his shoulder, and ran back uphill.
Illumi watched him in silence…
His body hid in the dark; only a sliver of him caught the guardroom's yellow light, dragging a slanted shadow. He didn't say a word. Only when Roy's back had vanished did he lift a foot, face blank, and follow.
As for that congrats? There was none of it in Roy's aura.
A Nen user's emitted "aura" isn't some unchanging milky white—it shifts with the user's emotion:
Red when angry…
Black when malice rises…
Green for balanced calm…
A refined gray when neither glad nor sad, habitually detached and indifferent…
What Illumi saw on Roy was gray—meaning Roy's read on him was: a familiar stranger, to be kept at arm's length.
And Illumi's read was right—opening the nodes really does change a person. Roy wasn't pleased or upset, didn't care and wasn't surprised; hearing the news was like hearing a weather report—no ripples inside.
But the fact Illumi could quickly reel his aura back into his body meant that, like Roy, he'd learned and mastered Ten within minutes of opening his nodes.
Ten: the technique of keeping aura from leaking by storing it within—opening and closing aura nodes to control release and retention.
For example, the "water-walking" trick in Zigg's notes: you close all nodes except those on the soles so aura exits only there.
In the original: Zushi took three months to learn Ten—a normal genius. Gon and Killua did it in minutes—a one-in-a-million talent. Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou, Fourth Prince of Kakin, did it in a second—one in a hundred million.
As for Roy and Illumi—thanks to the Zoldyck bloodline—picking up Ten within minutes of opening their nodes wasn't anything special.
Dong… 4:30 a.m.
Roy finished his run, rinsed off, and sat down at the table on schedule.
Gotoh rolled in the cart as always and lifted the lids: beef burger, salad, a big glass of milk—the "set." One extra dish drew Roy's eye: minced-meat eggplant.
"The chef saw you in the kitchen the other day, tried to learn, and made a plate for your review," Gotoh explained when he noticed Roy looking. "If it's no good, we'll let him go."
The Zoldycks don't fret over money—firing a cook is nothing. Roy, numb to it, picked up his chopsticks, ready to taste and toss out a polite pass to save the man's job—
but a familiar old breeze arrived first.
Someone beat Roy to the bite, lifted a chopstickful, and judged on the spot.
"Hmmm… too salty, too sweet; the eggplant chews tough, not soft enough—needs more practice."
Maha smacked his lips, eyes closed. Then he opened them, tossed the chopsticks, and vanished.
Roy and Gotoh stared at each other. If you didn't know better, you'd think the old man had rushed out for a midnight stroll—he was that fast.
"You heard him—too much salt and sugar; you didn't purge the eggplant; heat was too high at the end. You should've simmered it a few minutes on low to get it melting-soft, then thicken the sauce."
"Understood. I'll go fire him."
"…"
Is firing all you know? Roy shot him a look. "Even if you rehire, you might not get someone better. I'll write out a recipe; have the staff buy a proper iron wok. That's that."
"…Yes." Gotoh nodded, served Roy his meal, and briefed him on the last few days…
Supposedly—
"Madam's been vomiting nonstop. Thought she was pregnant; a Nen check found food poisoning. She had the produce-procurement butler strung up, beaten, and sent to Meteor City… that day."
Roy knew Kikyo was from Meteor City. He took a bite of burger and said nothing—just thought: she's desperate to have Killua; even so, she still has to wait three or four years.
"And… Young Master Illumi—his 80-win streak was ended."
Gotoh pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses. "An Emitter picked him out after watching his matches. They fought nearly an hour before a precise Nen bullet knocked Young Master Illumi out of the ring."
Chomp, chomp. The burger's beef was a bit rare—maybe medium—springy enough that Roy needed a gulp of milk to get it down. His face didn't change.
Gotoh stole a glance and added, "You haven't been to Heavens Arena for a while. Illumi likely went aiming to break your 81-win mark—and got burned for it… Yesterday I heard he had the master open his nodes. He'll be hunting that Nen user soon."
Hunting? That's not revenge—that's murder.
Roy finished, dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Enough chatter. Today's training plan."
Yubashiri sat on the rack, moon-washed and itching to be drawn—like Roy's mood, eager for night to fall so he could seek out Urokodaki in his dreams. He stood, left the mess for Gotoh, and heard the report:
"You're free this morning, young master. The master ordered category tests for you and Young Master Illumi. We'll set follow-up training based on your types."
Finally remembered he has another son?
Roy scooped up Yubashiri and, without looking back, tossed Gotoh a line:
"I'm not going. If Father asks, tell him—
'No assassin is stupid enough to lay his trump card bare for others.'
"He's the one who taught me that."
~~~
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