"Master, I think it's time to start the next stage."
The red glow faded; the practice blade returned to its plain self. Roy snapped a clean draw and slid it home.
[Notice: Swordsmanship +70]
The flames died. Scorched earth and a burning birch lay before them… Urokodaki stared at the boy, mind replaying that one cut that split the fog and beckoned the light—something he would likely remember until death.
"Have you hit your limit?" He hadn't forgotten his student's words: Roy had said, only when I hit my limit will I learn Breathing. Urokodaki had honored that, waiting. Sabito and Makomo dropped from the branches, one to each side of the old man. Even after shock upon shock, their eyes still couldn't hide the awe.
Genius can't be measured by common sense; there's a strange sweetness in having your understanding broken again and again…
Sabito's gaze burned. "Rōichirō—I agree."
He looked at the fog knitting again to bar the sun and said softly, "Mt. Sagiri can't hold you anymore. You deserve the wider world."
"Pick up your blade and hunt demons, or go down the mountain and see the land—and when you reach Fujikasane and avenge us, make sure you live brightly for us as well…"
"And for me, too~" Makomo laughed; her pretty eyes curved like two moons. "That thing chewed me up so bad. When you find it, don't you dare let it go—carve it to pieces, one cut at a time!"
Sabito shot her a look—since when was Makomo this ruthless? Yet in his heart he agreed.
A demon is a demon—unworthy of pity.
"Alright." Roy kept it short and tucked their words away. After this "red sun tempering the heart," he looked at Urokodaki with a touch more ease and openness. "If I may, Master—until now I've had a selfish thought: to surpass myself, at least not be worse than certain people…"
Netero flickered across his mind…
"Now I want to step out—take my body and my heart into the larger world," he said.
"Do more, see more, save more—make the world a little less demon-haunted. That's always good…"
"And," Roy grinned, bright teeth flashing, "if I get the chance to kill the Demon King—so there's nowhere sunlight reaches that a demon can dare to prowl—then when I come back to pay respects, I'll have some face. No one can mutter behind my back…"
"Oh ho—Rōichirō, you sneak! Tattling while we're not around, huh?"
"When that day comes, forget your speech. I'll have Fukuda perform a 'suicide' to liven things up!"
"Not a bad plan. I'll kill you right after."
"…"
A gust of yin wind stirred the branches. Shinsuke and Fukuda wheeled in, slinging an arm over each of the boy's shoulders; behind them came Shimizu, Watanabe, Kujo—the whole circle of seniors.
Dusk bled through the fog; the horizon bruised red…
Urokodaki listened quietly as the boy spoke. Even without Nen to help, he knew—they were all here.
All here… good. All here is good…
He looked deeply at the boy. "Tomorrow at first light—meet me at the waterfall."
Hands clasped behind him, he crunched away over the snow…
The tengu mask lay forgotten among the trees. He had a feeling that soon, neither he nor his retired friends nor the millions of ordinary people would have to live sneaking in the Demon's shadow.
As his disciple had said,
"Sunlight will scatter the dark."
Tap… tap… His footsteps faded.
Night fell—black as ink.
Three days' run from Mt. Sagiri:
a boy ran under the moon, hand on his hilt, haste to get home.
Sea-blue eyes, black hair in a low tail, Demon Slayer uniform cinched with a white belt, a half red half yellow-green haori flaring as he sprinted—Giyu Tomioka advanced!
He'd accepted the order; he would fulfill it—mission.
A new kid in the picture—curiosity.
Testing his talent—expectation. Behind the cool mask, Giyu hoped—and worried. He feared disappointment; he feared a scolding for missing New Year. His heart would not calm…
Meanwhile, the one he hoped to meet quietly shared a feast of boar with the one he missed, then lay down in the breeze and moonlight and slept sweetly.
That familiar drop—
Roy left the Demon Slayer world, stepped onto his cognitive sea, crossed the dream tunnel, and returned to Hunter—
Outside the airship window, the sky was already bright.
From on high he watched the red sun leap the rim of the world.
For once he'd slept to six—a rarity.
He rolled out of bed, washed, and ran as always. Toothpaste and cup—already set by Gotoh.
"You're in a good mood, young master," the butler said after a look.
Usually, even without a call, his 4 a.m. clock dragged him up. Perhaps with the negatives purged, Roy felt an ease and joy he hadn't in a long time—and allowed himself a little extra sleep.
"Not bad." With a corner-smile, he loped through every deck, then sprinted to the top and spread his arms to the sun—eyes closed—savoring the quiet.
A call buzzed—ruining it.
"It's the house. Young Master Illumi snuck out without telling anyone—headed to the Hunter Exam."
Gotoh hung up, watching Roy carefully. "The master asks that you keep an eye on him—don't let someone kill him."
"Someone else kill him—or he kill someone else?" Roy's laugh was cold.
Gotoh: "…"
With Illumi, who could say?
When he looked up, the young master was gone…
He hurried to catch up.
Ding-ling-ling…
"Attention passengers, this flight is now arriving at Narita Airport, United States of Saherta. Please check your belongings and prepare to disembark…"
Eight a.m.—arrival.
From airport to ferry—on deck, master and servant stood in line. In under an hour a whale-shaped island rose from the sea…
The portal to the Exam—and the stage where Hunter's story begins.
Sea breeze in his hair, Roy thought of Gon, Killua, Kurapika, Leorio—and, ten years early, set foot on the land where the dream begins.