"Clown, real name Jay White. No prior trail. Three years ago he suddenly appeared on the Yorbian Continent, killed a truck driver, stole a truck. Suspected origin: Meteor City…"
"In the meantime he drifted across multiple continents, committing over a dozen crimes big and small. Every time he toyed with police and escaped—clearly has Nen tailored for escape…"
"A month ago he slipped into the Mimbo Republic and carried out the notorious '7/11 Pirate Ship' incident…"
"Half a month ago he hijacked a Republic of Padokea freighter bound for the Kakin Empire, murdered the captain and 173 crew, and stole 17 antiquities… Suspected… working with accomplices…"
"What we can confirm now is that he himself should be a Manipulator—his ability looks like 'possession': through physical contact he can seize control of a body. Also… per intel just in from Dwight, customs found no firearms or contraband on him at the scene…"
"Therefore, we can conclude he has at least one accomplice with a spatial-type Nen, somewhere between Conjuration and Transmutation…"
Kukuroo Mountain—half an hour after Roy left. Silva, having "handled" Kikyo, had thrown a blanket over himself and was sprawled on the tiger-skin sofa, sipping red wine, mind elsewhere as a butler debriefed him.
The reporting butler was Tsubone's son, an old hand in the house. He'd grown up under Tsubone in the Zoldyck estate, served as trainee butler, full butler, butler captain; when Roy was born twenty years ago he even attended the young master for a time until Gotoh took over, after which he was seconded to intel—lists, collection, curation—reporting directly and one-way to Silva.
Cradling a stack of files, he narrated—then stopped when he saw Silva raise a hand.
"Hall, your wife's due soon."
"October 11th, sir. Thank you for your concern." Hall blinked—then couldn't hold back a grin.
"Picked a name?"
"Not yet."
He seemed to sense something and looked at Silva with hope.
Silva swirled the glass, pondered, and said, "Rain falling like music—call her Amane."
Hall bowed. "On behalf of my daughter Amane, my thanks for your bestowal, sir."
"A girl, then…" Silva stared through the window, silent a moment, and waved for him to continue.
Hall nodded. "Young Master Roy spotted 'Clown' at the airport. The target seems set on hijacking—copycatting the '7/11 Pirate Ship' tragedy. We've notified Master Zeno; he's on his way back."
"I worry he may not make it," Hall added carefully. "Sir, should we send a few more to support Young Master Roy? They're operating as a team; Gotoh may not be enough alone…"
Silva said nothing. The red in his glass looked like blood.
The air went still—hurried footsteps, a door pushed open, Luke's anxious face—
"Bad news, sir—Young Master Illumi ran."
Silva's hand paused; wine splashed onto the freshly cleaned carpet…
A window away in the garden, the head was gone—only a pit remained. By the pit, Milluki was red-faced, sweating to squeeze one out; a foot slipped and he pitched in headfirst, sending the junior butler scrambling—only to fish up nothing…
…
Whooom— Clouds tore aside. Aboard flight K3285 to Heavens Arena—
Roy and Gotoh, guns jammed to their skulls, sat very still as the little girl giggled—pure as the girl next door—offering him a hand: "Onii-san, if you won't eat candy, at least have some tea and cakes?"
A cup of black tea and a plate of pastries take the edge off travel—but tea can poison, and pastries more so…
"We're all minors here—drop the act, Clown-san." Roy's cane rested by his knee. He'd seen enough, and said what the girl was. With a glance he signaled Gotoh: don't move.
Gotoh understood. His right hand hovered a finger's breadth from his pocket; in his head he counted down…
The girl snapped. "Act? Who's acting?!"
"Gun or candy, you pick!"
Without a visible motion, a pistol "appeared" in her small hand. She aimed at the woman beside her—and blew her mother's head off.
Smoke curled from the barrel. Through it you could see the neat hole in the woman's forehead as her body sagged and slid off the seat.
Roy and Gotoh's eyes hardened. Before they could parse why she'd kill her own, the cabin door opened and another woman stepped in, sat down next to the girl—
Face and bearing identical to the one who'd fallen.
New skin, same core. The woman's a Manipulator… the girl's a Conjurer or "spatial" user who can stash firearms and ammo.
In an instant Roy had it. He ignored the gun at his skull, slouched into the couch, and drawled, "Let me guess…
"The clown in the terminal was one of your conjured beasts too.
"If you wanted me dead, you wouldn't keep trying to make me eat candy. So…
"What are you afraid of?"
He laced his fingers on the cane and looked them in the eye. "My name, is it?"
Mother and girl flinched.
Thought so, Roy mused, calmer now, with a wry smile. "Seems our Zoldyck name still means something—you terrorists do think twice."
"The young master is right. You know the price of crossing a Zoldyck!" Gotoh had seen enough to catch up. Terrorists are terrifying because they fear nothing. If it were up to him—why the chatter? Two "peanuts" to the head and done.
"Tell that to your mother!" the girl snapped—and fired at Roy.
"I hate you self-important types the most. Zoldycks, no Zoldycks—die!"
Anger—good. Anger breeds blind spots.
"Gotoh—go!"
Roy kicked the table and drew the cane blade.
Bang bang… Gunshots cracked. The cabin exploded into motion. A dinner fork whipped past Roy's cheek straight at the girl—
Behind it, a hollow-eyed "little ghost."
"Knew it—you can't do this without me…"
~~~
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