Year 1987 in the Hunter × Hunter timeline—also the birth year of Gon and Killua.
Also the year Ging released Greed Island.
Also the year the Phantom Troupe first formed, and—because of Sarasa's death—started down their dark path.
Also the year NGL became an autonomous state, elevating Gyro, completely abandoning mechanical civilization and sealing itself into an agricultural nation—planting a major seed for the later Chimera Ant incubation.
And, more importantly, the year Roy opened his aura nodes, awakened the Gate of Cognition, and two years later took the Hunter Exam—during which he was "watched" by a god and branded with a curse.
"Tick… tick…" The curse on the back of his hand silently counted down. Nearly a year had passed; without anyone noticing, eight more months had been shaved off his life. Roy turned and walked into the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, "Book the tickets."
After another quick shower, he finished breakfast under Gotoh's service. While the butler cleared the dishes and went out to buy the tickets, Roy drew a tissue and wiped his mouth with unhurried precision, then called him back with a single line:
"Call the doctor. We can move forward with the treatment plan for the lung disease. I want the medication as soon as possible."
"Reverse-Manifestation," like Manifestation, required a sufficiently clear and deep understanding of the "target object" before it could be brought into reality via imagination and nen.
Unlike Shizuku's Blinky, Kurapika's chains, or Knov's Hide and Seek… Roy, backed by the Gate of Cognition and able to travel freely between worlds, constantly expanded his mental library. Compared to them, what he could manifest was far broader—and far more numerous.
But that also meant the mental load was heavier than Shizuku or Kurapika's by a long shot.
For example—after dismissing Gotoh and letting him leave, Roy tried to "manifest" a carving knife and a block of wood to continue practicing Divine Script, aiming to carve one of his techniques—Divine Spear—onto a wooden dagger.
Halfway through, he realized: the knife was fine, but no matter how hard he tried, the wood simply would not take form.
Then he heard the door.
From the corridor came a calm voice that cut cleanly through his frustration:
"Divine Script, nen abilities—none of it can be conjured out of nothing. If you don't have enough real understanding of what you want to manifest, imagination alone won't make it appear."
The door opened. Ging stepped in, pressing down the brim of his worn hat.
He saw Roy holding a carving knife, staring at the bright window frame. Ging pulled up a chair and sat beside him.
Outside, the dawn painted the sky. Below, the city was waking—commuters' noise rising in waves.
Ging lifted a hand. Nen gathered into tiny spheres at his fingertips—like the time he'd shown Pariston in the original story—stretching, flattening, compressing, shaping…
A brand-new card formed in his palm. He toyed with it, then flicked it at Roy.
Roy caught it neatly between two fingers.
Ging slumped back lazily, hands resting on the chair arms. "Paper Art. I learned it after meeting an origami artist on my travels."
"His name was Murdock. He spent his whole life folding paper—so much so he didn't even realize he'd awakened nen."
"When I met him, he was literally riding a paper airplane he'd folded himself, gliding across a river nearly a hundred meters wide. He almost fell at the end because he ran out of aura. Thinking back… it was pretty funny."
"So you stole his nen ability?" Roy shot him a sideways look.
"Caw—" Feccha's Parrot poked out from Ging's shoulder, fluttered onto Roy's head, and immediately nuzzled up to Little Gold. Little Gold recoiled and shoved it away with a wing. The sight was ridiculous.
"Borrowing ideas isn't stealing," Ging said solemnly, ignoring Roy's disdain. "I'm reminding you: Manifestation isn't limitless. Murdock loved paper. He was obsessed with it. That's why he could manifest and manipulate paper freely. That's all."
Love—narrow and vast at the same time.
"So because I don't love wood, because I don't understand it deeply enough… my 'imagination' loses its foundation and can't become 'reality'?" Roy frowned.
Ging closed his eyes and simply basked in the sunlight, staying quiet beside him. Only when a gust of wind tossed a leaf onto the sill did he hum again:
"You're young. You don't have to rush. Some things take days. Some take a month or two… even a year."
"When you truly understand what you want to manifest, the rest happens naturally."
Advice from a top-tier Conjurer wasn't wrong. Ging could form ironclad contracts with beasts and borrow their powers—he wouldn't become one of the world's five greatest nen users for nothing.
"Maybe you're right," Roy finally said. He pushed back his chair and walked to the window.
The sunrise was fading into full daylight; red turned to gold.
He narrowed his eyes. "But you're wrong about one thing. I'm young, but I don't have time."
Then he thought of wood.
Wood lived because the sun fed it—photosynthesis, growth, life.
Was "wood" really that hard to manifest? Months? Years?
No.
Under the sun, there were no new things. The sun birthed all life—wood included.
Roy's gaze sharpened. If Yoriichi could create Sun Breathing, and from it all the derivatives—flame, water, wind, stone…
And if Hashirama could combine water and earth to create Wood Release…
Then—
I have two worlds behind me. I have two giants to stand on.
Roy let the carving knife dissolve into nen light and reverse-manifest back into his Cognition space. Then he opened his status panel and looked at his "Nen Nature Transformation" section:
Water: Lv3 (1453/10000)
Earth: Lv2 (354/1000)
One from Water Breathing, one from Swamp Space.
Roy's eyes sank. Nen surged. He drew a thread of "water" and a thread of "earth," then copied Ging's motion—forming a "water sphere" and an "earth sphere" in his palms.
With the sunlight warming the room, he brought his hands together, pressing the two spheres into each other…
Water and earth intertwined, permeated, fused—until neither could be separated.
Nen light flared. Roy slowly spread his hands—
And a log appeared: about two decimeters long and thick as a forearm.
Ging's eyes widened. "Wood?"
"Yes," Roy said calmly.
He lifted the log, letting it cast a clean shadow in the sunlight, and smiled.
For a moment, something sharp flashed through Ging's bright, stubborn eyes. Then his posture collapsed back into that lazy slouch, and he laughed in relief.
"Elena told me yesterday she still can't figure you out. Every time she thinks she's seen everything you can do, you turn around and pull out another surprise."
"Or another scare?" Roy asked.
"Both," Ging admitted.
"And you?" Roy rolled the log in his hand. Good wood, but too thick and too short for a dagger—more like a nail. He asked casually. "Any surprises from you?"
"Me?" A breeze lifted Ging's hat brim, exposing his messy fringe. He lounged in his chair, hand stroking the armrest, gaze aimed at the sky with easy confidence. "You have your road. I have mine. No one needs to envy anyone."
"Someone who built his career on plagiarism sure talks big."
"I said it's imitation. Borrowing. Learning," Ging snapped, irritated. Then he motioned Feccha's Parrot back to his shoulder. "Now, could you please pull that damn bug out of my heart?"
Roy retracted En. The heart-worm wriggled out of Ging and vanished into Roy's palm, bringing a thin stream of information with it.
Ging didn't wait for Roy to read it. "Razor doesn't want to come with me. Convince him. Greed Island can't run without him."
Of course. No one showed up without an agenda.
"You're begging?" Roy's smile sharpened.
"Don't put it like that," Ging said flatly. "Call it a trade."
"When Greed Island launches, it'll be fully open to you."
"Only you."
"Deal." Roy grinned and offered his hand at once.
Ninety-nine cards engraved with all kinds of nen abilities—an entire vault of treasure. In the Naruto world, that would be ninety-nine different techniques, varying in rank and effect. Roy had no reason to refuse.
As for Ging… without Razor—an elite Emitter to provide long-term aura supply—keeping Greed Island running, let alone publishing it, was a pipe dream.
Unless Ging wanted to sit on the island himself forever.
"Enough," Ging muttered. "Put away that fake smile before it falls off your face."
He glared, then slapped Roy's hand in a firm shake. And in the next blink he was gone—faster than the wind outside—leaving only a parting line hanging in the air:
"I'm waiting for your answer."
The door slammed.
Roy chuckled, unbothered. He opened the follower panel and looked at Razor's entry:
[Potential follower: Razor… Loyalty: near-follower… willing to trust his back to you…]
Roy's lips curled. His left hand formed a carving knife again. He began carving Divine Spear as Divine Script onto the fresh log…
After a few failures, a single wooden nail—engraved with the Divine Script for Divine Spear—appeared quietly in his hand.
Then—
"Knock, knock, knock."
"Sir, I'm back."
The door opened. Gotoh returned from booking tickets.
A black blur ripped past his cheek and stabbed into the wall behind him.
Gotoh's instincts flared—he reached for his gun—then halted.
This was the young master.
He adjusted his glasses, swallowed, and watched as Roy pinched the nail's head and murmured, satisfied, "Return."
The Divine Spear nail—which had just extended into a ten-meter stake—snapped back into an ordinary nail in an instant. Roy tucked it into his pocket.
Only then did he smile. "Let's go."
He patted Gotoh's shoulder.
"Yes." The butler snapped back to himself, hurriedly gathered the luggage, and followed.
Master and servant walked side by side to Razor's room and stopped.
The door was ajar. Inside, the broad-shouldered man in a tank top leaned by the window, practicing Water Breathing like clockwork. Without turning around, he asked:
"He came to see you?"
"Yeah," Roy said, pushing the door open. "I didn't refuse."
A brief silence.
Razor finished his last move—Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux—then exhaled slowly. He finally turned, narrow eyes locking onto Roy.
"You know I owe you, not him. If he hadn't broken me out, and I wanted to leave, I could've left whenever."
"I believe you."
Razor frowned, waiting for the rest.
Roy didn't add anything. He just walked over and stood beside him at the window, looking out at the bright city, the crowds, the traffic, the sunlight.
"Razor," Roy said softly, "I'm not your anything. I don't have the right to demand you do anything."
"Truth is, coming from a family of assassins… you and I aren't that different."
"So I thought about it. Do what you want. Yes or no—it's your choice."
"Of course, if you say yes, I'll teach you the last two forms of Water Breathing."
Razor's eyes flickered. The Tenth Form wasn't the end?
He towered over Roy, staring down at him for a long moment.
"You're threatening me."
"No." Roy lifted a finger and sent a stream of information straight into Razor's mind—Eleventh Form: Dead Calm, and Twelfth Form: Illusory Sword: Sun-on-Sea Mirror.
Then Roy turned and walked out.
He didn't take any sunlight with him, leaving only one line behind:
"Even if you refuse, I'll still give you."
Razor stayed by the window, silent, watching Roy leave with Gotoh—watching them reappear downstairs, climb into a taxi, and roar away.
Only then did Razor's brow relax, and a small, warm smile tug at his mouth.
"You really are the kind of guy people can't say no to."
He hadn't even said goodbye.
Yet it was already goodbye.
His quiet sigh spun away on the wind.
Razor suddenly felt… strangely wistful.
~~~
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