In a split second, Ronin's eyes transformed. The standard black iris vanished, replaced by a deep crimson hue containing swirling, comma-like patterns.
They were completely different from the Scarlet Eyes.
Kurapika stared at Ronin in shock, unable to comprehend the change.
"My eyes evolved when my desire for the power of revenge reached its peak," Ronin said slowly.
"That... how is that possible? Then..." Kurapika stammered, his thoughts a mess.
"It's alright. Even though they look different from the Scarlet Eyes now, every ounce of power within them still stems from our clan's lineage," Ronin said, his voice void of emotion, as if narrating a stranger's story.
"The first tomoe—that mark there—belongs to me. The second one... is my father's."
Ronin spoke softly, but to Kurapika, the words hit like a thunderclap.
"You... you absorbed Uncle's eyes?" Tears began to shimmer in Kurapika's own eyes.
He couldn't imagine the sheer resolve Ronin must have possessed to make such a choice.
"Yes. I took my father's gouged-out eyes back from Uvogin." Ronin looked down at his hands. "I wanted the power to take revenge. The power to kill Uvogin, and to slaughter everyone in the Phantom Troupe. So, Father's eyes responded to me. They merged warmly into my own, becoming my strength, becoming a part of me."
This was a speech Ronin had prepared long ago.
It wasn't far from the truth, either. Every pair of Scarlet Eyes he reclaimed would grant him a portion of power. Whether it was the heavy price of karma for obtaining this power, or simply for his own peace of mind, wiping out the Phantom Troupe was something Ronin was determined to do.
To him, there was nothing wrong with phrasing it this way.
Kurapika was shaken to his core.
After a long silence, he spoke slowly. "Does that mean... the eyes of our clansmen will all become your strength?"
"Yes. After my father, I absorbed another pair. That gave me the capital to stand toe-to-toe with Uvogin in the arena," Ronin admitted.
Then, with a hint of caution and apology, he asked, "Kurapika, do you blame me?"
"How could I?" Kurapika shook his head frantically. "This is the will of our people. I only feel... relieved! Brother Ronin, you've been acknowledged by our clan. If they are willing to lend you their strength, then it's a sign of their trust. They want you to take that power and live on!"
By the time he finished, tears were streaming down Kurapika's face.
Ronin stood up and handed Kurapika a tissue, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I will live on. And I will make those butchers pay the price they deserve."
The memory of his clansmen tied up in the town square, tortured to death, was the clearest and most painful memory Ronin had inherited from his predecessor.
Even now, waking up at midnight, he would sometimes feel like he was back there, witnessing that despairing hellscape all over again.
The elderly, the children, the women—no one escaped the fate of being tortured to death by those demons.
And the greatest demon of them all, the one who took sadistic pleasure in the suffering of others, was that short, devilish animal from the Troupe—Feitan.
"We will reclaim the eyes of every single clansman, and through my eyes, let them witness our revenge personally!" Ronin vowed.
Kurapika stood firmly by Ronin's side.
Although part of him felt that Ronin, carrying the will of the entire clan, shouldn't be consumed solely by revenge, the words died in his throat when he thought of what Ronin had endured.
Besides, did he really want to talk him out of it?
Kurapika asked himself the question, and the answer was immediate: No. He wanted revenge too. He wanted to eradicate those executioners just as badly.
So, let it be.
Let everything start over—after the vengeance is complete.
"By the way, why did we come here?" Kurapika asked, changing the subject.
"To find someone. Her ability should be useful to us. Plus, she has a particular interest in collecting human body parts. We might be able to get some leads on the Scarlet Eyes from her," Ronin explained.
Kurapika didn't react much to this.
That surprised Ronin a little.
"The Scarlet Eyes were designated as one of the 'Seven Most Beautiful Colors in the World.' The person who came up with that list is the one who truly deserves to die. Most collectors nowadays are just following the trend," Kurapika said, his tone helpless but rational. "Trying to stop people from coveting the Scarlet Eyes... at least for now, it's impossible."
Ronin realized he had underestimated Kurapika's maturity.
It was easy to forget that the current Kurapika was much younger than the version in the anime—he wasn't even fourteen yet.
"However," Kurapika added, a fierce glint in his eyes, "for those who have malicious intent toward the Scarlet Eyes, I show no mercy."
Ronin nodded. That was the right attitude.
"So, when do we start training in Nen?" Kurapika asked, his eyes full of anticipation.
"No rush. For you, it's best to awaken your Nen naturally. That will build a much stronger foundation, allowing you to go further down the path of power." Ronin knew that haste makes waste.
Right now, without activating his Scarlet Eyes, Kurapika started struggling around the 150th floor of Heaven's Arena. In Ronin's view, Kurapika needed to be capable of hitting the 190th floor on pure physical skill before unlocking Nen.
So, Kurapika still had work to do.
"I need to train too," Ronin said. "Let's start with heavy resistance training."
---
Neon had slipped out of her house early again.
She adored those "static," "breathless" human organs. It was as if removing them from a living body and turning them into specimens gave them a new life, a new meaning.
However, finding places in Moldin City that displayed such collections was rare.
As for corpses soaked in formaldehyde? Neon had no interest in those, even if they contained organs.
The Moldin Natural History Museum was Neon's favorite haunt. It housed many animal specimens and various organs preserved in jars.
But Neon knew a secret: some of them weren't animal parts at all. They were human.
She didn't know who had killed the people or smuggled the organs into the museum, but despite the crowds of daily visitors, Neon hadn't seen anyone else realize that the disguised organs were actually human.
Just like always, Neon stood in front of a display case containing a heart.
Perhaps it was precisely because someone had disguised it that this heart held a magical allure for her.
She desperately wanted to take this "monkey heart"—which was undeniably human—home with her.
Unfortunately, the allowance her father gave her wasn't nearly enough to buy it.
She had mentioned it to some like-minded friends she met online. They were curious and kept asking her for details about the heart.
Neon was starting to regret telling them. She was terrified that one day, she'd walk into the museum and find that her beautiful heart was gone.