"How many days has it been?"
"Eight."
"Still early, then. It took half a year to get the feeling."
Sabito sat on a high branch, Makomo beside him, both of them watching the figure below. Roy was still hugging the tree. He was doing better, at least; he'd managed to stay awake for a few hours this ti.
"Half a year is fast," Makomo said, idly drawing circles on the branch with her finger. "Master always said I was the quickest to learn after you, and it still took almost a year."
"Your talents lie elsewhere," Sabito said with a smile. He gazed out at the endless sea of fog. "Besides," he added, a nostalgic tone in his voice, "the fastest was Giyu. He had true talent. Learned the basics in three months and split the boulder in three years. A sha he was such a coward back then."
"What about him?" Makomo's bright eyes were fixed on Roy. "I think he's more amazing than any of us. He might even beat Giyu's record."
Sabito stroked his chin, lost in thought. Could he? This boy, Eiichiro, was a complete enigma.
A few hours later, Roy's concentration finally broke. He slumped against the tree and fell asleep.
The familiar sensation of falling—
The boy was back on Kukuroo Mountain. He went through his morning routine with practiced efficiency: run, eat, electro-shock therapy. Then he returned to the garden and started hugging the willow tree again.
Illumi woke up in his hole, as usual. After days of waking up after Roy, he seed to have gone numb to the humiliation. He didn't even look at his brother. Once the paralysis from the shock wore off, he climbed out and left. It was ti to settle the score for his broken winning streak. He would personally rip out that Emitter's heart to celebrate his Nen awakening.
Of course, compared to the infuriating person currently attached to the willow tree, that Emitter was just an appetizer. If he could rip out Roy's heart... the thought made Illumi tremble with a strange, dark excitent.
"Could you rein in your malice?" Roy's voice, muffled by the tree bark, was laced with annoyance. "It's disgusting."
Illumi's shoulders began to shake with silent, repressed laughter. "Is that so?" he hissed, his long black hair seeming to writhe like snakes. "You had better pray you never have a mont of weakness. Because when you do, I will cut off your head and use it as a pillow."
With that, he turned to leave.
"Watch your step," Roy added, not opening his eyes. "You're about to step in Milluki's crap."
Too late. Illumi froze, a look of indescribable disgust on his face as he lifted his foot.
Well, what did you expect? Roy thought. You're the one who personally ended his happy childhood and designed his own personal hell of training. A little revenge poop is the least you deserve.
Still unable to find that feeling of "becoming one with the tree," Roy decided to clear his head by cooking. He had Gotoh prepare the ingredients, and soon the kitchen was filled with the sizzle of stir-fried beef and the aroma of stead fish.
He didn't kick the other chefs out this ti. He let them watch, even offering a few tips. Half an hour later, two perfectly cooked dishes were on the table. Roy didn't start eating right away. He had Gotoh set a second place at the table, and a mont later, a familiar, ghostly wind swept through the room.
"Great-Grandfather," Roy said respectfully, and then imdiately dug in, having learned his lesson from the last ti. The old man's eyes narrowed. The boy wasn't playing fair. Their chopsticks beca a blur of motion, a silent, high-speed battle for every last bite.
After the al, Maha, for the first ti, didn't leave right away. He had Gotoh bring him a cup of coffee. "So, my boy," he said, picking his teeth with a toothpick. "How's the... tree-humping?"
"It's 'hugging,' Great-Grandfather," Roy corrected, a vein throbbing on his forehead.
"What's the difference?" Maha shot him a sidelong glance. "I haven't hugged your great-grandmother as much as you've humped that tree. You planning on marrying it?"
Roy fell silent.
Maha sipped his coffee. "A man is a man. A tree is a tree," he said, his voice a low rasp. "If you try to treat a man like a tree, he won't be happy. If you try to treat a tree like a man, the tree won't be happy either. So how can a man beco a tree?"
Roy listened intently.
Maha finished his coffee and walked to the window, looking out at the willow tree in the garden. "You don't need to treat a tree like a person, and a tree doesn't know how to be one. To force it... is to be unnatural. The man will be confused, and the tree will be displeased."
"Then what should I do?"
"Don't you already know the answer?" The old man turned, a sly, knowing smile on his wrinkled face. "Just let it be natural."
Let it be natural...
Roy mulled over the words. Was his great-grandfather telling him not to deny his own humanity by trying to force himself into the "mind" of a tree? But if a man can't beco a tree, how is he supposed to beco one with nature?
He looked up, a dozen questions on his lips, but Maha was gone.
"Coffee, Young Master?" Gotoh asked, offering a cup.
Roy drank it, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He went back out to the garden and sat down, his back resting against the willow tree. The bark was rough against his shirt, and the hanging branches tickled his neck. He decided to take the old man's advice. He stopped thinking. He didn't think about trees, or people, or Zetsu, or Breathing Styles. He just... relaxed.
The hum of cicadas and the gentle rustle of the leaves beca a soothing lullaby.
His eyelids grew heavy. As he drifted off, an image flashed in his mind.
A man and a pregnant woman, digging a hole in this very garden. They plant a small sapling. "It symbolizes new life," the man says, his voice full of hope.
Years pass. The tree grows. The man leads a small child to it, teaching him how to water it.
More years pass. The child is a young man now, defiant, yelling about a place called the Dark Continent. The man drags him to the tree and beats him senseless.
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