Dong…
Four a.m. The familiar chime rang out.
Roy opened his eyes again—back on Kukuroo Mountain—mind worn thin with fatigue.
The fallout from ten thousand cuts didn't show up in his body; it hit his cerebral cortex. Since awakening Nen, this was the first time he'd felt anything like it.
Normally, a Nen user follows the path Ten → Zetsu → Ren → Hatsu, and only at Hatsu do they develop an ability that fits their temperament and inner need.
But Roy is different.
Thanks to transmigration, the day he opened his nodes the panel auto-bestowed Door of Cognition—like certain Specialists who, due to special causes or environments, are born skipping Ten, Zetsu, and Ren and awakening straight at Hatsu.
For example, Neon Nostrade's Lovely Ghostwriter.
So if I'm injured in the cognitive world, do I carry the "debuff" into reality too?
He rubbed his brow and, for once, lay in bed five more minutes.
In those five minutes, a rule that runs through Nen practice clicked into place—rules and cost—i.e., Contracts and Vows.
Set a rule, swear to keep it—the harsher it is, the stronger the power you can draw.
In other words…
Since he enjoys the benefits of the Door of Cognition, he must accept the risks he faces inside it.
Roy understood, steeled himself, and quietly planted a suggestion:
Whether in reality or in cognition, never let yourself fall into an absolute dead-end.
At 4:05 a.m., the lingering drowsiness ebbed.
Feeling better, he sat up—not to run, but to reach for Yubashiri on the rack.
He wanted to see if, after Urokodaki's corrections, Sun Breathing had edged forward.
Shiiing. Steel sang—Yubashiri cleared the scabbard.
He rolled a sword flower one-handed, settled the weight, set his frame, and began to work through Sun Breathing.
At this hour: one hollow-eyed brat was already en route to Heavens Arena…
One newly inducted fat kid hadn't recovered from the day's electroshock; a butler kneaded salve into him…
Upstairs, a woman ablaze with fury was smashing things, muttering that when "someone" gets back he'd better watch out—
at least three days in bed…
Hearing her rant, an old man in the dim room downstairs rocked in his chair at the sound of cartoons, grinning shamelessly…
Then his ears seemed to swell; he listened a moment, rolled over, and mumbled:
"Kid's sword looks a touch sharper than before…"
He cocked his head and shrank his ears back…
"Dance… Clear Blue Sky… Raging Sun… Sun Halo Dragon Head Dance…"
The bedroom flashed with blade-light.
One full set of Sun Breathing, done.
Holding the edge of each motion, he could feel it—something was different.
First, his forms were keener; second, his transitions flowed better. A whole night of "ten-thousand swings" had used Urokodaki's light practice blade. Back on Yubashiri, his hand felt a touch rusty at first.
Small problems. More importantly—his focus windows were longer.
The result: after a day's practice, Physique rose another 0.2—up 0.1 from yesterday.
Accordingly, Silent Gait: 99/100 (Proficient) → 1/1000 (Mastery).
Rhythm Echo and The Snake Awakens climbed with the physique boost—The Snake Awakens even jumped from Novice straight to Proficient.
An expected surprise.
By evening,
he sheathed the blade and closed the panel, face calm.
A glance at the clock on the south wall—less than five days until Silva's test.
Gotoh had said he went to the Azian Continent. A round trip was at least a week, but at Silva's level, most of that would be transit; even late, not by much.
Perfect—more time to raise his ceiling.
Set a small goal: in five days, push "ten-thousand swings" to a double ten-thousand.
If Master was adding two thousand, he might as well add two thousand every day.
Roy flipped Yubashiri to Gotoh and pushed open the training-hall door, heading for his room.
The sunset on Kukuroo Mountain looked brighter than the snow country's dusk.
Sun-and-mountain earrings swaying, he strolled the time-worn gallery, turned the corner—and halted.
A stooped figure approached, hands clasped behind his back… white hair and beard, eight characters blazing on his chest—"A Kill A Day, Never Retire." He stopped too.
"Grandfather." Roy bowed.
Zeno grunted, looked him up and down; he'd filled out again. He frowned. "Tell your butler to fix that—your training clothes are short. What do you look like."
Teenage growth spurts are expected, but a butler who doesn't notice ill-fitting clothes is remiss.
Gotoh had offered to tailor new sets; Roy had waved it off as a bother. Since Zeno raised it, Roy wouldn't dump his own pigheadedness onto Gotoh.
"I didn't want to change. I'll have Gotoh alter them tomorrow," he said simply.
Zeno made no comment, turned to the window, and watched the sunset—done with that topic.
Roy nodded and walked past. As he was about to pass, Zeno called him back.
The former head of the Zoldycks—the world's acknowledged top assassin—eyes on the reddened sky, asked, "Now that you've opened Nen and stepped onto the path—have you thought about what you'll do?"
Roy blinked.
He remembered the night speaking through paper walls with Tanjuro—and smiled. "Freedom.
"Grandfather, I want to earn freedom…
"I want to climb, step by step, to the top—do what must be done—without fear."