Illumi spun, his hand-blade striking at Roy's neck.
The carotid artery. One of the body's most vulnerable points. Alongside ripping out the heart, it was one of Illumi's two favorite finishing moves.
Roy sensed the whisper of displaced air. He didn't turn. He simply shot his own hand-blade back in a counter-strike. But there was a crucial difference.
Unlike Illumi's, his hand was cloaked in Nen.
While Roy hadn't formally trained in the advanced Nen applications like En for perception, Shu for imbuing objects, In for concealnt, or Ken for advanced defense, nothing stopped him from intuitively focusing his aura into a single point. It was a crude but brutally effective application of the sa principles.
The result was decisive.
Two blurs of motion t with a sickening thwack. Illumi's attack was stopped dead. He imdiately recoiled, lting back into the shadows of the hallway. He raised his left arm defensively, but his right hand, the one he'd struck with, was trembling uncontrollably.
It was like hitting solid steel.
An assassin's instinct scread at him to counter-attack again, but his target seed to have already lost interest. To Roy, Illumi was no longer a person. He was an obstacle. An annoyance. And one does not waste ti on an ill-behaved dog that snaps from the shadows.
Tap... tap...
The soft soles of his athletic shoes padded against the ancient, worn stone floor.
Without a backward glance, Roy shook his hand as if he'd just swatted a fly. He continued down the corridor and disappeared from Illumi's sight, heading for the training hall.
The afternoon sun stread through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the room in a hot, bright light. It was the perfect ti to practice Sun Breathing. Roy wasn't about to let one or two misbehaving dogs ruin his mood or his training schedule.
He planted his feet and began to dance.
In the days that followed, a strange new spectacle beca common in the Zoldyck estate. The eldest son, dressed in simple training clothes, could be seen "dancing" day and night in the training hall, a sight that grated on the nerves of the entire household.
"He's still at it?"
"Yes, Master. He is."
"Has he neglected his other training?"
"No, Master. All other regins are being completed on schedule."
Sitting on a tiger-skin sofa, Silva listened to Tsubone's daily report on Roy's activities, a hand propping up his chin as he sank into thought.
Then, to Tsubone's utter astonishnt, he stood up.
He began to imitate Roy's movents.
First, "Dance." Then, "Blue Heaven." Followed by "Raging Sun," "Burning Bones, Sumr Sun"...
When he completed the final form, "Dragon Sun Halo Dance," Silva stood motionless in the center of the room, analyzing, processing. For a long ti, he didn't move.
Tsubone stood beside him, hands clasped, silent as the grave. Her ingrained self-perception reminded her that as a dog—a loyal old dog who had served the Zoldyck family for decades—she must never, ever bark while her master was thinking. Even so, she couldn't hide her shock. This was the first ti she had ever seen the family head imitate soone else's actions. And that soone was the very son he had deed to have limited potential.
"Haaa..."
A heavy breath escaped Silva's lips. After what felt like an eternity, he moved again, returning to the sofa. He gave a slight wave of his hand, and Tsubone knew she was dismissed.
Creeak... The heavy wooden door closed behind her.
Just as it sealed, a voice ca from within, sending a jolt through the old butler.
"Inform Roy that he is to compile a detailed summary of his insights into those movents and deliver it to ."
The tone was absolute. There was no room for refusal.
Tsubone stood facing the closed door for a mont, then placed a hand over her heart and bowed deeply.
That evening, she found Roy in the training hall, drenched in sweat.
When Roy heard the command, he showed no surprise. He simply stopped his movents, glanced up towards the master bedroom on the second floor, and made his choice.
He refused.
The Sun Breathing was his trump card, a power he had conjured from his own Nen ability, from his world of cognition. Out of respect for Tanjuro's legacy and for the sake of his own secrets, he could not and would not teach it to anyone.
Besides, the more he practiced, the more he realized how little he truly understood it. In a four-hour session, he had achieved a state of true imrsion for only a few fleeting monts. The rest of the ti felt wasted. Where would he find the ti or energy to instruct soone else?
And more importantly, that wasn't how you ask for a favor. Even from your own father.
"I believe I have the right to refuse," Roy said, wiping the sweat from his neck. He decided a direct approach was best.
Tsubone froze. She clearly had not anticipated this answer. This wasn't just anyone; this was a direct order from Silva, the current head of the Zoldyck family.
She responded automatically. "May I ask for a reason?"
Roy smiled. It was a thin, sharp smile. For the first ti, he truly sized up the old woman, a fellow Conjurer. Her "Mystical Butler" ability, which allowed her to conjure various vehicles, was a testant to how thoroughly she had been dosticated.
"A reason?" Roy slung the towel over his shoulder and looked up at her towering fra, his voice laced with scorn. "Since you pride yourself on being a dog, you should have the awareness of one. A dog... should never ask about its master's business."
Tsubone stood there, utterly stunned. It was as if she'd been struck by a curse, unable to move, unable to speak. After a long, silent mont, she turned and shuffled away.
Just like in the original tiline, she was largely indifferent to all the Zoldyck children except Killua. And so, Roy felt no need to be polite with her. He simply prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation with Silva.
But, surprisingly, nothing happened. Days passed, and the incident was never ntioned again. Tsubone vanished, and Silva never brought it up, even when they passed each other in the halls.
It wasn't until Gotoh returned, his eyesight fully recovered, that Roy heard a whisper of what had happened.
"She stabbed herself three tis. She's in the dical wing recovering now," the young butler explained as he served Roy his dinner, adjusting his gold-rimd glasses. "She got off easy. Had it been who failed to carry out the Young Master's implied wishes by questioning him, I would have taken my own life."
Right... you're even more intense.
Roy was speechless. All he could do was sigh. This is so Zoldyck. In this family, butlers were property, tools, dogs. Even if Roy saw them as people, they would insist on their own dehumanization, and wear it as a badge of honor.
He decided to change the subject. "The item I asked you to procure. Any news?"
When he had noticed his "dancing" efficiency was dropping, Roy had analyzed the problem and co up with three reasons:
Sun Breathing was fundantally a sword dance. He needed a sword.
He lacked the thodology for "Total Concentration Breathing."
He had no master to guide him.
The latter two could only be solved within his Gate of Cognition. But the first...
Shing. With a sharp, tallic ring, Gotoh drew a katana from his side and presented it to Roy with both hands.
"There is no news on the Nen-forged weapon you requested, Young Master. However, the armory did contain one blade of exceptional quality."
"What's its na?"
"Snow-Walker."
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