"Welcome back, Giyū." Ubuyashiki Kagaya gestured for his wife, Amane, to pour the youth a cup of tea.
Tomioka Giyū accepted it with both hands, took a sip, and felt a little of the road-weariness ease. He inclined his head slightly toward Himejima Gyōmei. The Stone Hashira, beads rolling through his great fingers, still wore that tear-streaked, compassionate face—yet his frame was as broad as a bear, and even seated cross-legged he was a head taller than Giyū standing. Impossible to overlook.
"You met the boy?" Kagaya lifted a hand—no need for formal bows; this was not a Pillar council.
"I did," Giyū answered plainly.
"And?"
"There's some… discrepancy."
Himejima's beads paused for a heartbeat.
Kagaya smiled, surprised. "Then Urokodaki may have overstated things."
Giyū was cold, yes, but never a liar. If he said there was a discrepancy, then perhaps that 'Kamado Roy' was a little less than advertised.
"No," Giyū said. "Sensei was conservative."
…!
Kagaya blinked and had Amane bring a cushion. "Tell me carefully."
Behind him, Hinaki and Nichika watched, curious; Himejima, too, tilted his head, listening.
"I lost." Giyū's words were bare. A stone dropped into still water.
Silence rippled through the room.
He thanked Amane, folded his knees onto the cushion, and spoke with grave sincerity. "Roy already fights at a Pillar's level."
"I used everything and could not defeat him."
The boy's illusion-kissed cut still flashed before his eyes. Giyū recounted, detail by detail, what he had seen. Kagaya listened quietly, pale irises brightening more than once; Hinaki and Nichika's mouths fell open like children at a talespinner's knee.
"One day to learn breathing; half a day to devise a form; conjuring his short blade as though 'man and blade were one'…" Such a figure they had seen only in storybooks—and even those legends sounded less outrageous than this "Kamado Roy."
"Amitābha—truly a heaven-sent demon-slayer, and a human terror-god on earth." Himejima stopped his sutra; hands together, he intoned a Buddha's name.
Kagaya glanced at him. "Your hands itch?"
Himejima neither denied nor confessed. "I rejoice for you, my lord—for the Corps—and, indeed, for all the people."
"Amitābha. Your rebuke is true."
You… Kagaya's smile deepened, but he let it pass. He turned back to Giyū. "You've done well."
"Urokodaki raised two good pupils."
"I did nothing," Giyū answered softly, then lifted his gaze, steady. "My lord, grant me leave to draw my blade."
He paused, then spoke from the diaphragm. "I beg you to witness the Red Blade."
"The Red Blade?!"
"Yes."
Eyes gathered on Giyū as he drew his sword. He clenched with all his strength. Steel thrummed—then flushed, sun-red, a glow that seemed to scour shadow from the room, the four carved characters Evil-Demon-Extinguish glowering fiercer still.
"Yes. As the old records say." Himejima's breathing mastery ran deep; though blind, he could smell the scorching austerity rising from Nichirin made Red. Urokodaki once taught that with training one could scent how many humans a demon had eaten; for the strongest Pillar alive, such "scent" was no surprise.
"Giyū," Kagaya said, eyes on that reddened blade, already guessing the truth. "Did the boy—Kamado Roy—teach you this?"
He'd not known it when he left, and knew it now. Kagaya was no fool—that was how he'd gathered the Pillars and stood against Muzan for so long.
"Yes."
Metal chimed back into wood. Giyū bowed, low and formal. "Roy offers the method of the Red Blade in exchange for all demon intelligence the Corps possesses."
"I beg my lord to agree."
"Giyū…" Kagaya's voice fell low. "Is he taking Final Selection?"
"He is."
"Good." Kagaya stooped to lift Giyū by the arms. "Then I'll bring it to him myself."
He smiled sidelong at Himejima. "Coming, Gyōmei?"
"Amitābha—of course." The Stone Pillar's voice was righteous as a bell. "I must guard my lord. And, incidentally…"
"…see the boy."
"Only incidentally?"
"Yes. A monk does not lie. If I say incidentally, then incidentally. Amitābha…"
His chanting rose again—who knew if it was the Diamond Sutra or a prayer of contrition.
…
January 25, HxH Calendar—early morning.
With teacher and seniors behind him, Roy ran straight for Fujikasane.
Leaving the Demon Slayer world, he tested time—and confirmed it: one day in Hunter equaled two in Slayer.
In other words, from now on Roy's "day" could be 48 hours—72 if he pushed it; perhaps even 96, 120, 240 with more nen and deeper mastery. A vast expansion in time to train.
[Notice: "Sun Breathing" maintained full day. "Physique" +1
A new day. No need for the golden bird's beak—his HUD woke him.
He rose, heard the city clock toll the hour. Habit made him glance at the mark on his hand—and he froze.
The countdown had "skipped" a second. From last night at seven to this morning at five, ten hours—yet the numbers lay at "9 years 9 months 8 days 23 hours 9 minutes 10 seconds," one second more than expected.
Is it because my physique rose again?
A line drifted through him: When you are strong enough, even gods give way.
He smirked at the brand, laced up, ran, ate—and at three that afternoon returned to the hall right on time.
"Clang."
The elevator opened.
The boy sauntered out and stopped before Botobai Gigante.
The Dragon lifted his lids, eyes bright behind the opera mask. "You came."
"Yes," Roy said. "I came."
"You shouldn't have."
"I already did."
~~~
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