"Heh-heh-heh… the kid's grown up—wings are hard now, huh…"
In the dim little bedroom, Maha rocked in his chair, smiling as he listened to cartoons. For a split second it was as if his ears swelled a size, then snapped back—odd enough to make you blink.
On the TV, The Stubborn Father and His Stubborn Son was playing… father and son bickering over a toy, and just as the father, losing the argument, reached for the belt at his waist—
Cre-eak. The door opened. Zeno, white hair swaying, pushed in a small meal cart.
"Grandfather looks in good spirits today."
He parked the cart and lifted the lids. Besides the old man's usual favorites—red-wine braised beef and vegetable soup with bread—there was an extra plate: minced-meat eggplant.
"The kitchen tried a new dish—said the boy Roy came up with it. Since you like it, I brought a plate."
Zeno had just tasted it in the kitchen—surprisingly good, a flavor he'd never had.
"Heh-heh… look at me, getting somewhere in life—big shot like you hand-delivering my meal. Incredible… unbelievable…"
Maha feigned a nap, eyes for neither food nor people, and grunted as the rocker squeaked…
Zeno didn't bite. He ladled vegetable soup, tore bread into strips to soak, and, pretending not to hear the needling, slipped behind Maha and began kneading his shoulders.
"Kikyo was poisoned. Done by the new butler."
"Silva had it checked—the culprit's background is clean, an honest sort. No grudge against our family. Pure coincidence…"
"You know how it is—with a house like ours it isn't enemies we fear. It's coincidence."
Zeno, unusually, offered a few sentences of explanation. His long fingers slid from Maha's neck to his shoulder blades. Maha let out another pleased grunt.
"So in the end you're worried about the curse taking root?"
Maha straightened a little so Zeno could reach his back. Eyes half-lidded, he murmured, "If it's calamity, you won't dodge it. Worrying's useless…"
"Yes, Grandfather."
"I'm not teaching you anything. I'm saying seeing you annoys me."
"Does Roy annoy you?"
"That's my good grandson. You don't compare."
"I'm your grandson too…"
"You?" The old man jerked his chin toward the door. "Out."
A moment later Zeno was hustled out, dusty and disheveled.
Same grandfather as ever—enough for Zeno to know. He showed no irritation; if anything, a faint smile tugged at his mouth. He stood outside the door for a moment, hands clasped behind him, then wandered the timeworn corridor—without realizing it, drifting toward Roy's room.
Roy had finished telling Gotoh what to do. Yubashiri in hand, he rounded the corner and spotted Zeno at once.
A small bow. "Grandfather."
The boy's black hair fell to his shoulders, glossy in the dawn glow—like Zeno's in his youth, and for an instant it was easy to imagine those green years again, the ones he always missed upon waking.
"Hm." Zeno looked Roy up and down, lingered a second on Yubashiri, grunted noncommittally, and walked past.
"Nice blade. Shame it followed a lousy owner. He offered me a hundred million to kill his master. Didn't see the value—so I killed him instead. Here's hoping it doesn't pick the wrong person again…"
A flicker—another—and with a few steps Zeno was gone, like he'd teleported out of sight.
Roy had heard Gotoh tell the story of Yubashiri. He stroked the blade and stood there a bit, until the red wash of sunrise warmed his neck—then he moved, turning away from Zeno's path and heading for the training hall.
Morning meant the usual drills. Luke, the butler in charge of electroshock, was already in place. Seeing Roy push the door open, he swapped the 500,000-volt baton for a one-million-volt one.
"The master says your training load doubles starting today." Luke bowed as always.
"I thought morning training was canceled?" Roy said evenly. Gotoh had just told him they were supposed to test the brothers' Nen types; he didn't believe Luke didn't know.
"Only Young Master Illumi is excused. You—are not." Luke kept it short.
Roy fixed him with a long look—then suddenly felt someone watching. He snapped his head toward the window.
Silva stood there, silent, just looking in. His shadowed bulk seemed to blot out the rising sun.
In that instant, Roy understood—
Silva had gotten to Gotoh first, listened through their conversation.
So this is the "punishment," huh?
Roy met Silva's gaze without flinching.
The air crackled like static.
Caught between father and son, young Luke held his bow and barely dared breathe. After a long moment, Silva spoke.
"What do you call me?"
"Father."
"You didn't say that at dawn."
"You do know that was dawn," Roy said, drawing a deep breath and letting the sunlight leap over Silva's head onto his own face. "This is morning."
Silva fell silent. Then: "Give him the current."
Luke straightened at the order, grabbed the baton, murmured, "Forgive me, young master," and planted it to Roy's chest.
Bzzzt— Arcs leapt. A million volts poured in. Roy's mouth twitched visibly; his body shook like a whip—but he kept his spine straight, refusing to drop, and stared Silva down.
Until—
Blackout.
…
9:00 a.m.
Roy came to.
Turns out, once you're knocked out by a jolt like that, you can't slip into "deep sleep" mode. Finding himself not in the shrine but still on the training hall floor, he rasped to Luke, who was giving him water, "How long was I out?"
"Half an hour and three minutes, young master."
So long already…
Roy turned his head toward the window. Sunlight steamed off the earth, the heat already rising—no sign of Silva. He heaved himself up, staggered back a few steps, and plopped down again—his body not yet caught up with his mind.
"Careful not to squash Young Master Illumi." Luke finished giving him water and quickly warned him.
Only then did Roy notice the cushion under him. He looked down…
Illumi lay on the floor—his long, straight black hair puffed into a full afro.
"How is he here?"
"After his category test, Young Master Illumi came to the training hall. When he heard you'd switched batons, he insisted on switching too. I couldn't refuse. So… as you can see."