Roy didn't spare Illumi a second glance. Even unconscious, his brother's dead-fish eyes were wide open, radiating a stubborn defiance. I, Illumi Zoldyck, have never been second best. Roy could practically hear the thought that must have gone through his head when he'd demanded the stronger prod.
He sat on his brother's chest for a mont, then gestured for Luke to dig a hole in the courtyard. They dragged Illumi outside and unceremoniously dumped him in.
"Young Master... is this wise?" Luke asked, his voice trembling as he watched Roy start shoveling dirt onto his brother. He was terrified of what Illumi would do to him once he woke up.
Roy leaned on the shovel, gradually regaining control of his aching body. He left Illumi buried up to his neck. "Don't worry," he said casually. "He prefers to sleep this way."
Luke didn't believe him. But as Roy patted down the last of the dirt, he noticed that Illumi's perpetually open eyes had finally closed.
"Get an umbrella," Illumi's flat voice instructed from the ground. "The sun is in my eyes." He would have preferred the dark, cool hole in his own room, but his body was still paralyzed. This would have to do.
"Yes, Young Master." Luke scurried off, not daring to look back.
Roy shielded his eyes with a hand and stuck the shovel in the ground. "Rest well," he said, and walked back to the training hall.
Illumi's eyes opened again, watching his brother's retreating back. Just before Roy disappeared around a corner, his voice followed, quiet but firm. "Next ti, I'll wake up before you."
BOOM. The heavy doors of the training hall slamd shut.
"I hope so," Roy murmured to himself. He picked up Snow-Walker and drew the blade.
He didn't imdiately begin practicing Sun Breathing. Instead, he stood in the center of the room, calming the lingering agitation in his spirit. He took a deep, centering breath, then moved, the blade cutting a diagonal arc through the air. "Sun Breathing, First Form: Dance."
A wave of heat rolled off the blade, and a flicker of fla erupted from its edge, leaving a scorched black line on the stone wall.
Not focused enough.
His wrist snapped, and the blade reversed its arc, an upward slash that carved a second ring of fire in the air.
Still not focused.
"Third Form: Raging Sun."
"Fourth Form: Setting Sun Transformation."
"Fifth Form: Solar Heat Haze."
He moved through the forms, one after another, tirelessly chasing that elusive feeling of perfect concentration. When Gotoh ca to call him for lunch, he sent him away.
"Are you an Enhancer?"
Illumi was awake. He had dug himself out of the hole and was now leaning against the training hall window, watching Roy. He had apparently slept the entire day away. Sleeping under an umbrella in the garden isn't so bad, he thought, and walked into the room. "I think you need a sparring partner."
He flexed his fingers, his hands stiffening into blades. The Nen awakening had clearly given him a surge of confidence.
But in the next second, a black shadow blurred. Roy grabbed him by his frizzy, electrified hair and slamd his face into the floor.
"I'm hungry," Roy said, his voice flat. "I don't have ti to play with you." He sheathed Snow-Walker, stepped over Illumi's prone body, and walked out.
Illumi lay there, staring at the ceiling, his mind a complete blank.
A mont later, Silva appeared. Illumi slowly pushed himself up. "He's an Enhancer, isn't he?"
Narrator's Note: Enhancers specialize in strengthening themselves or their weapons. Their Hatsu are typically focused on increasing their own attack and defense capabilities. The most famous Enhancer is Isaac Netero, the strongest human alive.
"I don't know," Silva replied, moving to the center of the room and beginning his stretches.
"He has to be!" Illumi insisted, getting to his feet. There was no other way to explain the explosive, impossible speed Roy had just displayed.
"He didn't use Nen on you," Silva said, glancing at the corner of the room. The old surveillance cara had been replaced with a new one, this one encased in a thick, steel box.
"Then what was it?"
"Shadow Step."
Illumi froze, his body going rigid. He stood there for a long ti, then walked to the window, hoisted himself up, and dropped back down into the courtyard. Silva watched as his son found the hole he'd been buried in, jumped back in, and began to robotically pull the dirt back over himself, as if only the embrace of the earth could offer him any comfort.
'Weak. You're too weak, Illumi.'
Though they were separated by a long corridor, the sa thought echoed in both brothers' minds.
Roy, anwhile, was walking back to his room. A system notification popped up: [Physique 0.05]. He glanced at his stats.
[Shadow Step: Proficient (89/100)]
He was close to reaching the next level of mastery. It must be because my base physique has improved, he reasoned. He couldn't wait to go to sleep and continue his training. But he knew a harsh night of training likely awaited him. He decided to eat and take a dicinal bath first.
He found that Gotoh, with the intuition of a long-serving butler, had already prepared the bath. As Roy soaked in the steaming, herb-infused water, Gotoh stood by, pouring hot water over his back and giving his report.
"...The Master was inford of your refusal to attend the Nen-type test. He said nothing, but he has issued a new directive."
"And what's that?"
"In two weeks' ti, he will test the results of your training."
"What 'training'?"
Gotoh polished his fogged glasses, his expression grim. "Your mastery of Zetsu," he said. "The Master said that if you can withstand three lashes of his whip, you will have passed."
Roy stiffened. The mory of the one-million-volt prod seared through him, and his chest began to ache all over again.
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