???
"It hurts."
"I'm tired."
"I can't move."
"There's nothing in front of me."
"Why am I injured?"
"Why am I here?"
"Where are you, big brother?"
"Sniff! Come save me."
---
Zoro
A huge dilemma. That was the situation.
Hyo had filled in what happened after the escape: it had sent shockwaves straight through the higher-ups. The Zen'in clan's reputation had taken a visible hit, and while that wasn't good news for them, it was considerably worse news for us.
There was no longer any doubt about what came next. They would do anything to get their hands on us and make an example of both of us—a message for anyone else who might think about defying them.
Truly cornered.
Surviving alone was manageable. Most tracking techniques simply didn't apply to someone with no cursed energy. The ones that could work—soul- or body-based techniques—were far rarer than most people assumed.
The same was largely true for Toji. But surviving on the run for both of them at once—food, shelter, constant movement, no room for mistakes—was an entirely different problem.
That conversation with Hyo was what had led to the current dilemma.
"Should I let him stay and grow up safely with her, or take him with me on the run?"
Put that way, the answer seemed obvious.
On one side: safety. School. Friends. Maybe a girlfriend eventually. Something that looked like a normal life.
On the other side: running. Deadly encounters until strength caught up with the threats chasing us. A childhood spent in survival mode, with trauma practically built into every day.
And yet something made it impossible to simply choose the obvious answer.
A promise.
The promise to always be there. A promise that couldn't survive leaving him behind.
Taking it seriously left only one real option.
And honestly—the desire to leave him wasn't there either. Not even close.
It was even possible to admit, without too much difficulty, that the promise was partly an excuse. A cover for something more personal. Selfishness. And there was no denying it.
So here it was. Reason on one side, emotion on the other, and no clean way through.
Asking Toji wasn't worth the effort.
What could a five-year-old genuinely understand about the situation?
No arrogance intended in that thought—but the odds of Toji choosing to come along were somewhere around a hundred percent regardless.
"Sigh. What a pain."
---
Three days later — Tsukumo Hyo
This kid had become impossible to tolerate.
Five days ago, opening the door had seemed like the right decision. Five days of living with the consequences had raised serious questions about that judgment.
Every single day followed the same pattern: sulking next to his brother, eating quantities of food that defied all reasonable explanation, or training like a complete idiot in the garden despite injuries that should have had him flat on his back.
The worst part was the answers. Or the total absence of them. Every question about how he was healing so quickly, how he moved that fast, how he had that kind of endurance—always the same response.
"I'm just built different."
This insufferable little—
"Please stop insulting me in your thoughts," Zoro said, not even looking up from his training.
"You can read minds now?"
"I'm just built different."
'Okay. I'm going to kill him.'
Years of cultivated patience were the only thing standing between him and an innate-technique-shaped hole somewhere in the garden.
The smirk on his face made it obvious this was entirely deliberate. That cheerful, insufferable, punchable little smirk.
My daughter is never going anywhere near this child.
"I'm not interested in your daughter, ma'am."
Something cold moved through the chest at those words.
"Brat—how did you do that?"
The grin settled back into place, comfortable as ever.
No way. Don't tell me he's—
"I'm just built different."
"You little brat—" Already moving toward him before the sentence could finish.
---
Zoro
"Bwahahaha!"
Stopping wasn't an option. In the middle of all this stress wearing steadily away at the nerves, teasing Tsukumo Hyo had become one of the few genuine sources of comfort available.
Reading her wasn't difficult. While she watched the training, the frustration came through clearly on Observation Haki—she insulted easily, and since nothing was coming out loud, the insults were obviously all running internally.
Then the emotion shifted. Determination, affection—feelings that only surfaced when her daughter entered her thoughts. And since the daughter had been mentioned at least a hundred times already, guessing what was currently running through her head required no particular effort.
When is she going to understand there's no interest in her daughter?
Three days had passed since arriving here. Most of the physical injuries had healed. The mental fatigue had cleared enough to function properly. The Haki wasn't fully back to its peak, but it covered the entire house without any real strain.
Current focus: infusion training.
Useful technique, but applying it to two swords simultaneously remained out of reach. The control simply wasn't there—too unstable, too weak to split cleanly across two blades at once.
Throughout all of it, Toji's condition was being tracked constantly through Observation Haki. Which was exactly how the shift was caught the instant it happened.
"He's awake!"
Swords sheathed immediately. Full sprint toward the house.
"Hey! Brat, where are you running like that?!"
No answer. Through the door, up the stairs, down the hallway—stopping directly in front of his room.
And then the hand froze before it reached the handle.
Nothing was holding it back. No invisible force. No infinite weight pressing down. No Stand wrapped around the wrist. No barrier, no resistance of any kind.
Just a hand. Hanging in the air. Unable to cover the last few centimeters.
The reason was simple enough.
Fear.
Fear that Toji might be afraid when he saw me.
Fear that Toji might be relieved when he saw me.
Fear of making the choice that came after the door opened.
Because opening it meant deciding. And the dilemma held at arm's length for three days would no longer wait on the other side.
Reason: leave him here. Safety, care, a real childhood. Break the promise—but give him something worth having.
Emotion: take him along. Watch the odds of both of them dying climb. Keep the promise. Keep him close.
Without noticing it, one step backward. Then another.
"WHAAA! BIG BROTHER, WHERE ARE YOU?!"
The thinking stopped. The door came open.
Across the room in seconds, pulling him in close.
"Shh! Shh! I'm here. Don't worry. You're not getting rid of me that easily."
The crying settled quickly. His face pressed into the side of my neck.
"Big brother… sniff… sniff…"
"Yeah. I'm here. It's okay."
At that moment, the decision was already made.