"You're here."
"Yes, I'm here."
"You look confident."
"And if I'm not?" Roy drew his blade and stared hard at Silva. "Will Father go easy on me for that?"
"No. I'll only hit harder." Silva's hand paused on the soft whip as he rose to his full height—his killing intent surged like a raging sea, crashing down to swallow Roy.
Roy gripped Yubashiri with both hands, remembering Urokodaki's lessons. His feet rooted as if nailed to the floor; his thick black hair whipped straight back in the gale. He could barely keep his eyes open…
Bzzzt— Arcs crawled; the camera in the corner flickered red and pushed the feed out.
Early morning: Kikyo, hand on her waist, rose from bed and sipped breakfast tea as Tsubone attended her. Outside the window, Milluki—dolled up in a lolita dress—lay belly-up in the garden while a butler dutifully rubbed ointment on him.
A few curious butterflies flitted by and, on reaching the training hall, struck an invisible wall and dropped one by one…
Illumi saw plainly: they'd been knocked out cold by overwhelming killing intent.
A moment later the wind died… A whip-shadow cracked the "air" with a detonating snap and lashed straight for Roy's chest.
Fast—too fast. Illumi had only glanced at a butterfly; when he focused again, the whip was already on Roy.
The Snake Awakens? With his physique up, Roy's own "The Snake Awakens" had just reached Proficient.
The moment he stepped into Silva's killing field Roy had fired Gyo—he could faintly see that the whip carried a flavor of "The Snake Awakens."
Or rather—just as Urokodaki said of swordsmanship: a blade is the arm's extension. So is the whip for Silva; a whip-crack is a hand-blade. If it lands, it's not "just" a strip of skin.
Closer!
Roy could smell the executioner's reek riding the whip.
He kept calm, warned himself to hold steady, two hands on Yubashiri. As in the snow country's daily "ten-thousand swings," he timed an iai cut—at the instant the whip-tip kissed his chest, he chopped.
Shiiing—
The tip screeched against the air; Yubashiri carved a clean arc, meeting the strike and prying the whip's path off his chest.
BOOM— The avalanche of force didn't stop for Roy's blade; it stuttered for a heartbeat and then hammered his chest.
It was like being hit head-on by a hundred-ton truck. Yubashiri nearly flew from his hands. He shot backward down the gallery almost ten meters and slammed into the corner stone wall.
Crk… crk… From his body outward, the wall spider-webbed.
Pain knifed through him. He slid down the wall, blood threading from the corner of his mouth—one blow and his organs were rattled.
"Why didn't you dodge?"
Today's test subject was Zetsu—
Zetsu excels at closing aura and sharpening the senses—
Using Zetsu to evade was what Roy should do.
"Why dodge?" Roy wiped his mouth, tightened his grip on Yubashiri, and shot back, "If Father is testing me,
"then of course I should weigh Father as well. That's… basic courtesy."
Liar. You just want to hit back. Illumi wisely shrank deeper into the corner, coiling like a viper in shadow. Those hollow eyes locked on Roy—face blank, heart roiling far more than he showed.
Since childhood they were taught: an assassin isn't a brute. Take only the jobs you can kill; if you can't, you don't. Take a task beyond your reach—you're begging to die.
To Illumi, Roy was begging to die.
"Do you think your life is that hard to take, or that being my son means I won't kill you?"
Silva had seen it too; his gaze was ice.
Roy said nothing. Truthfully, he simply hated being hit and not hitting back.
Even against an enemy who is Father, he must defeat him fair and square. He had to admit he'd fudged it with Urokodaki; he knew he wasn't Silva's match—yet he could not stomach skittering like a rat.
"At least… I'll try to brush his sleeve."
He didn't answer Silva—or acknowledge Illumi. Roy fired Zetsu, sealing his nodes to heighten his senses. Eyes narrowing, he stamped into Mastered Silent Gait and, right before Illumi, vanished.
Whss— A whirlwind tore through the hall. He reappeared—dozens of Roys, blades up, sun-and-mountain earrings flashing—closing on Silva, all dropping vertical cuts.
"Sun Breathing · Form One · Dance!"
Fwoop— Friction lit the tips; ring after ring of fire sliced down.
Silva's nostrils flared; heat washed almost to his face. The corner of his mouth ticked coldly.
"Zetsu with Silent Gait and Rhythm Echo—good choice. But…
Silent Gait is the only one worth noting."
He didn't budge—no visible motion. Just a roll of the wrist, and the whip snapped again—this time dragging a chorus of howls, faster and heavier than before. In an instant, a net of whip-shadows dazzled even Illumi's eyes—
Pop… pop… pop… One after another the phantoms burst—only one Roy remained—to be swatted through the window, crashing into the garden.
Milluki, who'd been "playing dead," jolted up, stared blankly at Roy sprawled on the ground—and a poorly timed snot bubble slid from his right nostril.
"Young master," the butler had tact. He scooped Milluki and hustled aside.
Inside, Silva's back to the shattered window, his voice a rumble: "Continue."
Illumi peered again… Under the willow that had watched Zoldyck generations rise and fall, a figure staggered up on his blade—
a sorry sight—glass had split his brow; blood ran hot down half his face.
"Kh— kh… That whip is heavy. Father, how about a deal…
"You call it. We'll write this one off…"
"Heh-heh… sly brat—playing games with your old man…" In the dim room, the old man rocked, amused.
Beside him stood Zeno, En open.