Chapter 70: Sakonji Urokodaki's View on Life and Death x Silva's Three More Whips
A person experiences two deaths. The first is when they stop breathing. The second... is when they are forgotten by the world.
Maha would not forget. Zeno would not forget. Silva would not forget. And now, it was Roy's turn.
A great family is built on orderly succession.
Late at night, after giving Gotoh his instructions for the ingredients, Roy showered, changed into his pajamas, and lay in bed. He stared at the ceiling, searching his mind for any memory of his "Grandpa Zzigg." The only impression he had was that one shocking image of him, Netero, and the Gourmet Hunter Linne, standing on the shores of the Dark Continent, watching a colossal sandworm burst from the ground and tear through the sky.
He imagined it must have been an incredibly thrilling scene. The kind that would make you shiver with excitement just by thinking about it.
Sha... sha... The night wind rustled the corner of the curtain, revealing the thick darkness outside.
Roy knew the truth: this world was a giant nesting doll. A river flowed from the Dark Continent, forming Lake Mobius. Lake Mobius surrounded the six continents, and those continents supported billions of people, of whom less than ten percent were Nen users.
Therefore, knowing there was a heaven beyond the heavens, a world beyond their own, Roy understood. If he were Zzigg, he wouldn't have been able to resist the call to adventure either.
The boy thought of the dream, rolled over, and closed his eyes.
He fell asleep very late tonight.
"Because he has something on his mind."
In the snowy world, Roy, as always, entered the world of Demon Slayer through his dreams. This time, he didn't wait for Sakonji Urokodaki. He took the gravel basket himself and headed deep into the forest to practice his blade.
Today, he spilled more gravel than yesterday.
Sabito saw it clearly. The boy wasn't focused, his concentration was off. He answered Makomo's question about why Eiichiro was "not in good form today."
"Should he still be training, then?" Makomo asked.
"Of course."
"There's no room for being sentimental in sword practice. Good mood, you train. Bad mood, you train even harder. You keep training... and training... and eventually, your troubles disappear."
Sabito glanced behind Roy. Under a birch tree not far away, Sakonji Urokodaki stood silently in his tengu mask, watching for a while. He then turned, returned to the cabin, and picked up his carving knife.
Just as Sabito had thought, Sakonji didn't stop Roy or give him a day off as he had before. He simply began to carve.
One swing, three stones fell. A hundred swings, two stones. A thousand swings, one stone. After two thousand swings, no more stones fell. By the time the boy, drenched in sweat, had completed three "pseudo-Ten Thousand Swings," the bangs of his hair were crusted with frost.
[Notification: Swordsmanship +20]
[Sun Breathing: 83 → 87/100 (Novice)]
Hah... Roy sheathed his sword, exhaling a dragon of mist from his nostrils.
He carried the basket of gravel, not a single stone missing, and walked back along the path to the small, familiar cabin.
The oil lamp was lit. A hot pot sat on the heated table, and his master had prepared two plates of wild boar meat with some wild vegetables dug up from the snow.
He said one word:
"Sit."
He picked up half a plate of meat and put it in the pot.
Steam rose, and the rich, savory aroma of meat quickly filled the small room.
Makomo was crouching by the pot again, staring and swallowing, her self-control gone.
Roy set down the basket and his training blade, sat cross-legged, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of the meal, which managed to wash away some of his worries.
"Are you fighting your father again?"
Soon, the two plates of meat were empty, and most of the vegetables were gone. Sakonji Urokodaki ladled a bowl of soup and handed it to him.
Roy sipped it, gently shaking his head. "No. I was thinking of my grandfather. I'm going to pay my respects to him tomorrow."
"Your grandfather?"
"My great-grandfather."
"He must have lived a long life."
Sakonji ladled a bowl of soup for himself. "Prepare some dishes your grandfather liked. If he enjoyed a drink, bring a bottle. It doesn't have to be expensive, just whatever he usually drank."
"I don't know what he liked to drink."
"You never met him?"
"He died before I was born."
Sakonji Urokodaki: "..."
A long, heavy silence filled the room. The mere mention of "life and death" seemed to stifle all sound.
"This is too sad..." Makomo, sensing the change in atmosphere, said mournfully, "Master must be thinking of us... he's sad again."
Sabito was silent, staring at the rafters. He, too, had many unresolved regrets, things he could never speak of.
For once, Shinsuke and Fukuda were quiet. The other spirits floating around them all slowed their movements and found a corner to huddle in.
Roy, taking it all in, drank the last of his soup and wordlessly began to clean the dishes. He placed the leftover broth outside to freeze. When he returned, Sakonji Urokodaki was standing at the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the endless expanse of snow.
With his back to Roy, he recited a string of names: "Eiichiro, remember these: Sabito, Makomo, Shinsuke, Fukuda, Watanabe, Shimizu..."
"Thirteen in total. Your thirteen senior brothers and sisters."
The old man turned his head. "I never believe that they died," he said seriously. "Because they are always alive in my heart."
"When the day comes that I am 'old', I will go and reunite with them."
"When that time comes, whether they resent me, blame me, curse me, or beat me... I will accept it all."
As he spoke, the weathered old face beneath the tengu mask revealed an exceedingly kind smile.
Roy listened in silence. Beside him, he heard a soft sniffle, which grew louder, finally erupting into unrestrained wails.
"Master! We missed you so much!" Shinsuke and Fukuda were crying uncontrollably.
Makomo wiped her tears. The fox-masked boy's eyes turned red; he tilted his head back and shut them. Roy remained silent.
That night, he lay on the bed, his clothes loosened.
I saw it, Master, he thought silently. They don't blame you.
He tossed and turned, listening to the cold wind rattle the paper window, and finally fell asleep.
The familiar sensation of falling...
He left the Gate of Cognition and returned once more to his bedroom.
Roy heard the chime of the grandfather clock in the corner. Dong. He lazed in bed for a few more minutes, then washed up and went for his run.
He left the castle, passed the butlers' quarters, and reached the mountain gate. He noticed Kastro asking Zebro for tips on strength training. By the time Roy returned to his room, a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums had been placed on the floor in the hallway, just beside his door.
"Chrysanthemums cannot be brought inside. It's bad luck," Gotoh explained, wheeling in the breakfast cart.
Roy hummed in agreement, his gaze moving on. He ate his breakfast and listened distractedly as Gotoh reported the day's training plan.
"The Master said, now that you've learned Zetsu, you must learn Ren. He seems to know that you were pressured by someone else's Ren at the Heavens Arena. He has issued an order: he will test you again after some time. It will still be three whips."
"How long is 'after some time'?"
"The Master didn't say. Only..."
Roy forked a piece of beef, chewing as he gave Gotoh a faint look.
Gotoh chose his words with care. "He only instructed that it depends on his mood. If he's in a good mood, perhaps he'll forget. If he's in a bad mood..."
The young butler pushed up the glasses on his nose. "He'll whip you any day now."
☆☆☆
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