A person dies twice in life. The first time when they stop breathing, the second time when the world forgets them.
Maha wouldn't forget. Zeno wouldn't forget. Silva wouldn't forget. Now it was Roy's turn.
In large families, hierarchy mattered. Late that night, after instructing Gotoh to prepare ingredients, Roy showered, changed into pajamas, and lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He carefully searched his memories about Grandfather Zigg. His only impression was of one photo: Zigg with Netero and gourmet Hunter Linne when they first landed on the Dark Continent, witnessing the shocking scene of towering sandworms drilling through the ground, stirring the wind and clouds.
It must have been quite a thrilling scene. Just imagining it made one involuntarily excited and shivering.
The evening wind lifted a corner of the curtain, revealing thick darkness outside. Roy actually understood clearly—this world was layered. From the Dark Continent flowed a river forming Lake Mobius. Lake Mobius wrapped the six continents. The six continents nurtured billions of people, among whom Nen users accounted for less than 10%.
Therefore, knowing there was a world beyond this world, if he were Zigg, he'd also be unable to resist embarking on an adventure.
The young man recalled that dream, turning over to close his eyes. Tonight, he fell asleep very late because he had something weighing on his mind.
Snow country. Roy entered the Demon Slayer world through dreams as usual. Without Sakonji Urokodaki's intervention, he removed the basket and carried gravel to the deep forest to practice.
Today, more gravel spilled than yesterday. Sabito saw clearly—the young man wasn't focused enough, wasn't concentrated. He answered Makomo's question of "Why isn't Eiichiro in form today?"
"Should he still practice?" Makomo asked again.
"Of course. Sword practice doesn't allow for distractions. Good mood, practice. Bad mood, practice even harder. Keep practicing, and worries disappear."
Sabito glanced behind Roy. Not far away, under a birch tree, Sakonji Urokodaki, wearing his tengu mask, silently watched for a while before turning back to the cabin, picking up his carving knife. As Sabito thought, he didn't stop Roy as he had last time or give him a day off. He carved masks on his own.
One slash, three stones fell. Hundred slashes, two stones. Thousand slashes, one stone. Two thousand slashes, no more stones fell. When the young man completed three sessions of "pseudo-ten thousand basic swings," drenched in sweat, frost had condensed on his forehead.
[Notification: Swordsmanship +20]
[Sun Breathing: 83→87/100 (Beginner)]
Roy sheathed his sword, exhaling a plume of breath. The gravel was carried in the basket—not one less, not one dropped. Turning back along the path he'd come, he returned to the familiar small cabin.
The cabin already had oil lamps lit. A hot pot sat on the brazier. Master sliced two more plates of wild boar meat with some wild vegetables dug from the snow, simply plating them. He said, "Sit."
Dropping half a plate of meat into the pot, curling hot steam rose. Soon, the entire room filled with rich meat fragrance. Makomo squatted by the pot again, eyes eagerly watching, disappointedly swallowing her saliva.
Roy put away the basket and training sword, sitting cross-legged to enjoy the pleasure food brought, the meal easing his worries a bit.
"Fighting with your father again?"
Soon, both meat plates were empty. Even the wild vegetables were mostly eaten. Sakonji Urokodaki ladled a bowl of soup and passed it over. Roy sipped small mouthfuls, gently shaking his head. "No, thinking of my grandfather. Tomorrow I'm going to pay respects."
"Grandfather?"
"Great-grandfather."
"That's a good long life." Sakonji Urokodaki also ladled himself soup. "Prepare some dishes your grandfather liked. If he loved drinking, bring a bottle. Doesn't need to be expensive—whatever he usually liked drinking is fine."
"I don't know what he liked drinking."
"You never met him?"
"He died before I was born."
Sakonji Urokodaki fell silent for a very long time. Mentioning "life and death" seemed to silence everything. Too heavy. Makomo sensed the wrong atmosphere and sadly said, "Master probably thought of us and felt sad again."
Sabito remained silent, just staring at the beams. He also had many unfinished regrets he couldn't speak of. Shinsuke and Fukuda were rarely quiet for a while. Surrounded by wandering souls, all slowed their movements, finding corners to hide.
Roy saw everything as he finished his soup. He silently collected the dishes, then placed the remaining soup base outside to freeze. Returning, Sakonji Urokodaki, with hands behind his back, came to the window, gazing at the endless snow country. Back to Roy, he recited a string of names. "Eiichiro, remember: Sabito, Makomo, Shinsuke, Fukuda, Watanabe, Shimizu. Thirteen people total, also your thirteen brothers and sisters."
The old man turned around, saying seriously, "I never thought they died. I believe they've always lived in my heart. When this master someday grows old, I'll go down and reunite with them. Then if they resent me, blame me, scold me, beat me, I'll accept it all."
The aged face beneath the tengu mask smiled with extreme kindness. Roy quietly listened. Nearby came faint sobbing sounds, then growing louder, finally evolving into wailing.
"Master, I miss you so much!" Shinsuke and Fukuda cried uncontrollably. Makomo wiped tears. The fox-masked young man's eyes reddened, head raised, and eyes closed. The young man remained silent.
That night, undressing to lie on the warm bed, Roy silently thought, I saw it all, Master. They don't blame you.
Tossing and turning, hearing cold wind rustling the window paper, he finally fell asleep, snuggled by the brazier. The familiar falling sensation came. Leaving the cognitive world, he returned to the familiar bedroom again.
Roy heard the corner clock's pendulum striking with a chime. Lying dazed in bed for several minutes before washing up and going for his morning run. Leaving the castle, passing the butler's villa to the mountain gate, he noticed Kastro asking Zebro about strength training techniques. When Roy returned to his bedroom, beside the doorway against the wall sat a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums.
"Chrysanthemums can't enter the door. Bad luck." Gotoh pushed the food cart, explaining.
Roy hummed lightly, withdrawing his gaze. While eating breakfast, he listened to Gotoh report today's training plan, though he was distracted.
"Master said, since the young master learned Zetsu, you should know Ren. He seems to know that at Heaven's Arena, the young master was pressured by someone using Ren. He issued orders: sometime later, he'll still test the young master, still three lashes."
"How long is 'some time later'?"
"Master didn't say. Just..." Roy forked a piece of beef into his mouth, glancing over lightly.
Gotoh carefully chose his words. "Just instructed, depending on his mood. If his mood's good, maybe he'll forget. If his mood's bad..." The young butler pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, saying carefully, "He'll lash without delay!"