Roy pushed the door open and walked into the forest.
Winter had passed; in early spring the shoots were sprouting… even ever-misty Mt. Sagiri wore faint strokes of green, life stirring again…
Sabito followed without a word; Makomo stayed with Urokodaki, now and then raising a chill wind to sweep away the wood chips fallen from his carving, then—
Roy held his stance, feet nailed to the ground, waist driving the core, the core carrying the elbows, the elbows linking into both hands—cutting without pause, the count edging toward five thousand.
"How many now?" Makomo sprang into a tree to stand beside Sabito.
Once the count passes three thousand she always starts to lose it, so she sensibly gave up and left it to Sabito.
"Four thousand nine."
"Hm?"
Makomo glanced at the light; there was still a long stretch until evening, and already four thousand nine hundred—did that mean…
"Will Rōichirō break through today?"
"Whether he will, I don't know," Sabito said. "I only know he stopped midway to eat a few dumplings and drink a pot of hot tea—rested half an hour."
Makomo: "…"
Only him… anyone else would've had their jaw on the floor.
She told herself not to fuss—should be used to it by now. Her dulled gaze slid to Roy—her brows lifted—had he gotten taller again overnight?
"You saw it too?"
The sleeves and cuffs of the cutting boy's clothes were clearly a size short, wrists and ankles showing…
Sabito sighed. "When my parents were still alive, they told me a story: don't go into a bamboo grove after rain, lest the shoots shoot up a section at a time and leap out to club you."
"I didn't believe it then. Now…"
He smiled at himself. "Even if Rōichirō suddenly told me he was a bamboo turned human, I wouldn't be surprised."
"Senpai jests," Roy said—raising his hands for another slash; steel wind howled and peeled the fog.
"I'm not joking." Arms folded, Sabito couldn't help a tinge of envy. "If I'd had a tenth of your strength back then, I wouldn't have died by that thing's hand."
"I don't want a tenth—one twentieth would do." Makomo propped her chin in her hands and called to Roy. "Hey—Rōichirō, tell me—what do I eat to grow as fast as you?"
She'd always fretted about her height—even in death. Sabito could only roll his eyes, helpless.
Another cut. Roy only smiled, silent.
He couldn't very well say, "You."
Where souls and grudges were concerned, these senior brothers and sisters present might not be much worse than Moritonio's sister—in fact, because they'd practiced Breathing, their souls were tempered almost to substance. Likely… the Life Energy would be anything but small.
At that thought Roy was startled to find a greedy, evil notion arise—toward his own seniors, no less. His brows knit; he realized something was off…
Inside his own mind there lurked many negative emotions—unnoticed most days. Now, settling his heart and looking closely…
Some came from those souls murdered by the clownish terrorist, some from the girl and other Nen users butchered by "the Meat Grinder" Harrison, some from Moritonio's sister and the victims he made into "art" and pulped, and even… from the very first man Roy saved—Minamino Hirotomo…
These "victims" had no malice toward Roy. They'd lain quiet, with no stir… until—
Today, by a single line from Makomo, his "greed" was tugged, and they began to move…
Frowning, thoughtful—Roy mused: a human being is a complex whole. A "human heart" can't be spotless—there's always a bright side and a filthy side… existing separately, yet in a unity of opposites…
Which means—
Since I chose to accept them, I unavoidably accept their "filth" along with them…
Clarity came—and his next stroke went crooked…
"This must be the so-called law of equivalent exchange: if you want power to rise, you must bear the risks power brings…"
"Shh—" Sabito saw Roy's form start to warp and quickly warned Makomo not to distract him further.
Makomo knew when to hold her tongue.
Roy's brows furrowed. Having spotted the problem, he reset his stance and kept cutting, mind flying—how to purge those negative currents? If they built up, he might end exactly as Father Silva warned: mind twisted, demonized by his own practice…
Unnoticed—
The blade count crossed five thousand, five thousand five… five thousand six… five thousand seven… five thousand nine… racing for six thousand—
At the instant Sabito counted "five thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine"—
The slanting sun punched through the fog and laid a beam along Roy's face; warmth, sudden, welled in his chest.
He started—the "two suns" in his eyes flared…
The false and the fog fell away—
Yes… the sun rises; the night passes…!
Wherever sunlight falls, all grime flees by itself…
Inspiration struck—
A blessing flashed through him; he gently closed his eyes and silently visualized the sun.
Vmm… A subtle rhythm rippled outward from him, passing through Sabito and Makomo and shocking their spirit-bodies.
They looked hard—and in Roy's hands the practice blade began to freckle red.
At first just two or three points, then a line, then a sheet, and finally the whole blade—bursting a brilliant crimson glow in this mountain where fog never lifts…
With the boy's slanting cut—
All the "negative" emotions nested deep in his heart collapsed in one blow, lifting as black wisps from his crown—and the wind took them, leaving nothing behind…
Then a great flaming slash ripped nearly thirty meters, shearing the stake, plowing the earth, snapping a birch—and stopping an inch from Urokodaki's toes—
BOOM!
The birch crashed, snow flew…
In a world of white, the old man—come by night to see how his student trained—felt his tengu mask split down the middle and fall away, revealing a stunned, speechless face.
"A red blade… sword aura like flame…" In a blink his memory swept back to years before—the day his beloved student Giyu came of age as a slayer—and the day his own heart broke.
That day, with Sabito's help, Giyu passed Fujikasane and joined the Corps, then sat home waiting for the smiths to bring his blade… He remembered what they said when they had Giyu test it—
They were searching for a swordsman who could make a Nichirin turn red—indeed, the entire Swordsmith Village sought such a swordsman…
"Haganezuka Hotaru—the one you've been looking for… we've found him."
~~~
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