Whale Island isn't big—smaller even than Kukuroo Mountain, the Zoldyck estate.
But unlike Kukuroo's chill austerity, Whale Island has a town, a market; the annual Hunter Exam draws hordes of candidates, and tourism and bustle far exceed Kukuroo.
Hawkers shouting over street stalls, inns and eateries running discounts to lure customers, street performers juggling and busking… all the fireworks of life Kukuroo never had.
Following Roy, Gotoh even spotted plenty of oddly dressed folks, carrying, slinging, or toting all manner of weapons and gear, swaggering openly through the streets—early batches of exam candidates, most likely.
"Young master, there's a nice-looking restaurant ahead. Let's eat there." After a short wander it was mealtime; Gotoh eyed a busy place whose main hall was half full—likely decent food.
Strolling the market, Roy felt for a flash like he'd stepped back in time; his former home had streets like this. He stepped past the restaurant instead and asked, "Can your phone take pictures?"
Gotoh blinked—if only he'd known, he'd have brought a camera. He nodded. "It can."
"Though the quality isn't great."
No smartphones in this era—most handsets are physical keypad models; a flip phone counts as high-end.
Roy knew the score and didn't push it. He led Gotoh through lanes away from the crowds, toward a quiet patch.
They passed a stretch of green; faintly, a small tavern came into view—classic Japanese one-family home, business below, residence above. The sign read "Mito's Tavern."
Roy stopped and flashed Gotoh a peace sign.
Gotoh: "…"
He kept his peace, glancing at the slightly dated place—he couldn't even hear conversation inside. Why the young master would skip so many sights to snap this was beyond him…
The young butler couldn't know what "the place where the dream begins" means to a reincarnator. This is the story's starting point—snapping a photo to say: I was here; I am; and I will be…
Click— Gotoh pressed the phone's shutter. Souvenir taken, Roy didn't even check it. "Develop it when we get home," he said, then leaned on his cane blade at the door and pushed it open.
Cre-eak.
"Welcome~!"
A bright voice chimed. From behind the counter stepped a young girl with a tray and a kerchief on her head—orange shoulder-length bob, pretty amber eyes, sixteen or seventeen at most. Her gaze recalled a certain "Dad, Where Are We Going?" regular, but without his cunning or ambition—more a gentle firmness.
"Two," Roy said, holding up two fingers.
He and Gotoh sat at the counter.
The place was very quiet—only one table occupied. Maybe Pariston had chased most candidates away, or maybe it was just far enough from town—more peace than bustle…
"Please sit." Two glasses of ice water slid to them; Mito smiled and handed over menus. Roy casually ordered omurice with orange juice. "Same for me," said Gotoh.
While they waited, Gotoh cased the layout—entrances, exits, emergency routes. His eyes slid past the other patron, paused, and he leaned to Roy. "Young master, that one looks like a Nen user."
Not just any Nen user…
White shirt, black slacks, brown shoes, blue cap; long white hair hanging straight, nearly to the floor as he sat. Roy had spotted him the instant he entered—
Ging's de facto student—Kite.
No more than a second after Gotoh's glance, hawk eyes under the cap looked up—lingered on Gotoh, then slid to Roy. The boy's gaze tightened; he tugged his cap down and bowed his head without a ripple…
Danger. In that instant Kite saw the boy, an inner alarm blared—it was like seeing a beast.
As a child, he had a natural affinity with animals—preternaturally keen to "presence." It wasn't Nen—more instinct. Ging found him, trained him as a named student, taught him Nen; when they parted, he gave him a final test—Find Ging.
So Kite did: came to Whale Island, Ging's hometown, to take the Exam and start the "Find Ging" journey—only to bump into two heavyweights straight off, especially the boy.
Even without looking at him, the invisible pressure was crushing—like the time he wandered into the jungle and met a foxbear…
"Here you go~" Not yet the "auntie," Mito arrived with omurice and juice, lifting the kitchen curtain. Kite knew the girl; he lowered his lids and kept a sliver of Gyo on Roy and Gotoh.
Gotoh nudged up his glasses, his other hand sliding to his pocket to pinch a coin, silent as shadow…
"Eat."
Ding. A bright chime broke the taut air.
Roy tapped his plate with a fork, stilled Gotoh's hand, peeled the egg, scooped ketchup-fried rice, and tasted. He smiled at Mito. "Your cook is excellent. The rice is fragrant."
"My mom made it." Mito beamed, unaware of the instant just passed. She puffed up with pride. "My brother and I have always loved Mom's cooking…"
"Then you must be happy."
"Not so much—just normal." She smiled modestly.
Roy nodded, then asked, "I don't see your brother. You're alone out front…"
Kite went taut again; Gotoh lowered his spoon.
Mito's face dimmed; she huffed. "Don't mention him. Haven't seen him in years; no idea what he's doing out there…"
Doing what? Starting companies, exploring ruins, restoring old buildings—or… having a child…
Roy counted. It would be about the time Kikyo was carrying Killua—when Ging had Gon. He looked at Mito—full of unspent spite. Poor girl—she had no idea what was coming.
He said nothing more.
They ate, paid, and left the tavern.
Behind them—
Cre-eak.
The door shut, then opened again. A slim figure in a cap slipped out and followed.
~~~
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