Ghosts differ from demons in that they have no body to anchor them.
Breathing, when mastered, heightens perception—you can catch a demon's scent—but you cannot sense ghosts.
Perhaps only when you kill a demon, in that instant of the "lantern of memory," can you glimpse the soul's edge…
That's why, all these years, Urokodaki Sakonji could not perceive Sabito, Makomo, and the others. In the original, it wasn't until Tanjiro split the fox mask that the old Water Pillar froze for a heartbeat and faintly sensed something.
Tomioka Giyu could scarcely believe it.
He turned toward the red-haired boy sleeping at the hearth's edge; under those flame bangs, the face seemed veiled in something mysterious. It was not in the letter.
Urokodaki patted his back. "Sleep."
Giyu nodded, took one last look at Roy, and lay down without even undressing, Nichirin blade in his arms.
"I'll get the light," Shinsuke "whooshed."
A cold gust blew out the lamp.
Amber faded; darkness rose. Giyu stared at the ceiling, heart surging and ebbing. Joy at reuniting with Sabito and all his juniors swelled in him; he forced his eyes shut. Drowsiness came; he sank into sleep.
…
[Notice: Nen "Nature Change" +20]
Hunter World.
The storm fell away; the sea settled. Now and then a swell thumped, but against a three-masted barque like the Kaijinmaru, it barely registered.
Roy flicked the branch and lifted a flying fish. Behind him, a makeshift net of lashed barrels brimmed with seawater and fish; a few slapped free onto the deck and Kuraging would tap them back with a stick.
The Kurta girl had a good eye. She put on a new-hire butler's air and took the small chores on herself. Roy let her; Gotoh, happier not to see, simply didn't look—guarded the young master instead.
"Flying fish, eh… not an easy catch." Old Captain came puffing on his pipe, eyeing the branch in Roy's hand.
"Hookless fishing"—only this outrageous boy could pull off something so absurd.
He thought of Ging—quiet as a cat that year; nothing like this batch.
"Captain, how long to Dolle Island?" Kuraging lowered her stick and drew a breath.
"At most three days—maybe two and a half if we're lucky." He glanced at her. "Congratulations—passed the point match."
A day and a night—through Pariston, the storm, and more—his stage was done. Kuraging had come in tenth. Above her were familiar faces: the bald ninja Yusuke, the mummy, the snake handler, the bow boy, Kite, the weirdo… Gotoh and Roy.
"You're being kind," Kuraging said honestly, sneaking a look at the boy's not-so-tall back. "You saw—only thanks to our young master."
She brushed her hair back; a chill touched her neck. She didn't have to look.
"Miss, a formal reminder—you haven't passed any staff test. Don't call yourself a butler."
Fire this witch the moment we dock. And when was he your young master?
Gotoh glared, stern.
Kuraging smiled and pretended not to hear. She folded her legs, opened a travelogue, and read with gusto; if a fish flopped free, she bonked it with her stick—whether she was hitting fish or someone was anyone's guess.
"Gulalala…" Captain felt like he'd just watched a play. Smiling, hands clasped behind his back, he walked on.
Let these boys and girls savor the last calm.
"Once you reach Dolle Island, that's when the real trial begins."
He looked at the sky. The higher-ups had clearly tightened the rules. They didn't want many to pass.
…
"Dragon Head!"
On an Association airship bound for the official site, a giant logo painted along the hull.
Incense drifted… Zeno, white hair flying, was fighting a boar-headed brute.
"Boarmen—the creatures your father and I ran into when we met on the Dark Continent. They live in tribes, call themselves the children of 'God,' often styling themselves 'Barbarians.' V5 rates them C…"
"Heh heh—thick hide and hard to put down…" Netero slapped another boarman into the floor; the deck shook. More surged up—some in plate, some with greataxes, some swinging flails. Aside from the pig heads, they could have been human troops.
And every one of them Enhancement—tough as boiled leather. Blows barely rocked them.
Zeno shaped aura into a dragon; it clawed a boarman down, then bit off its head.
Splurt… Blood fountained from the severed neck.
He exhaled, shot Netero a look. "Copying my father's memories—fine. Using them to test candidates—that's too far."
With Botobai holding the last gate and it's still not enough—you want total wipeout?
These boarmen are far beyond what ordinary Nen users can handle—and most of these candidates don't even know Nen exists. Drop them into this and what else is there but death? Zeno knew the old man's aim—after several soft years, Hunter Exam had become a joke, so this year he'd swing hard to claw back its authority.
No shame in course-correction—but the swing was too hard.
"Mm… it's only a slice of memory," Netero waved—and the "illusion" vanished. No boarmen. No axes or flails. Just a bright training hall—two men at the window—and a roll of tape and a bottle of green sap in their hands.
The tape was a memory copy Zeno had brought from home. The sap was extracted from the Cedar Tree—hallucinogen and mind-fogger.
(In canon, Leorio was duped by Tonpa using sap from that very tree.)
Netero watched the landscape stream by under them and said quietly, "I'm no villain. If those kids can last one minute in the mirage, they pass."
No more duds.
The recent "clown hijacking" had been a wake-up slap.
He narrowed his eyes; a thin, hard glint flickered deep within.