Disheveled, panicked, limbs weak, vision blurred…
Blood loss was eating away at Kastro's life. The boy ran for his life, that pale face smeared black with exhaustion.
Behind him the maniac refused to relent—each hand-blade strike carved another wound.
He didn't know, and couldn't spare the thought, why the man fixated on him. With a belly full of grievance he tore through streets and alleys, fleeing as screams rippled in his wake…
Closer now… he could faintly hear the drone of engines…
Kastro wiped the blood from his face, burst through the checkpoint, tore free of three or four security guards' hands, and forced his head up. There—standing at the entrance—was the boy with his loyal butler, cane blade in hand, waiting.
In that instant Kastro wanted to cry. He couldn't tell if what filled his eyes was blood or tears. He staggered a few more steps, the world went black, and thud—he hit the ground.
"I… made it…" Pure will dragged him to Roy's feet; then his head lolled and he passed out.
Whoosh—
Illumi vaulted the barrier on Silent Gait, "The Snake Awakenes" already ready—when a calm voice from midair cut him off.
"Have you made enough of a scene?" Their eyes met… Gotoh hauled Kastro away.
Roy looked at Illumi, placid; Illumi looked back, unbowed. They stood in silence for a beat…
Then Illumi lowered his hand-blade, shoved both hands in his pockets, brushed Roy's shoulder, and walked into the terminal. "You'd better be able to protect him."
Airport security in riot gear rushed up; the boy melted into the crowd and vanished.
Roy glanced at Kastro. "Patch him up."
He turned and went inside.
10:00 a.m., the airship lifted.
4:00 p.m., the airship landed.
A black sedan idled at the exit. Gotoh held the door for Roy; Kastro—now awake—followed.
Thanks to the ship's medical staff, his bleeding had stopped; bandaged, he climbed into the sedan after Gotoh, out of danger.
Vrrm—
The driver punched it.
Kastro lurched forward with the inertia, eyes past the front seats to Roy's back. He'd heard from Gotoh: this was the eldest son of the world's foremost assassin family…
"World's foremost" and "assassin" in one phrase—hard not to feel awed. In his short life it was a first. He turned to the window; in his mind that flying slash replayed as the scenery streaked by. A vague daze crept in—what kind of giant was he stepping into?
"Remember: the young master hates the back seat—when he goes out, he rides shotgun," Gotoh said beside him, already starting "intern" lessons. Kastro listened with half an ear… and then—
Skree— The car braked. He stepped out after Gotoh—and looked up at a grand gate.
Seven leaves, worn by time, breathing out a mottled majesty…
A guard stood by, waiting at the entrance. Seeing Roy get out, he doffed his cap and bowed. "Young master, I'll open up."
"I'll do it." First day as an intern butler—Kastro wanted to make a good impression. He beat Zebro to it, rolled up his sleeves, and planted himself before the Gate of Yomi.
Who's this kid…? Zebro sneaked a look at Roy.
Roy and Gotoh said nothing—didn't stop him. Zebro took the hint, closed his mouth, and stepped aside.
It was 11:20 a.m. The sun was a hammer; tempers steamed. Kastro meant to push with one hand, then turn and gesture "please" to welcome the young master home.
The gate didn't budge. The moment went awkward…
Embarrassed, he threw in the other hand—no movement…
He strained till his face flushed—third push—still nothing…
Worse, the stress blew his wound open. Blood spurted through the bandage.
He swayed twice and fell flat.
If you don't have the diamond chisel, don't take a porcelain job, Zebro thought, head shaking.
Kastro struggled to rise. Footsteps—he looked up on instinct—Roy extended one finger to the Gate of Yomi and the ancient doors swung open a leaf. Roy didn't even pause as he walked in.
"You'll stay here. When you can push the first door, report to the butlers," Gotoh said, and followed.
Boom! The Gate of Yomi slammed shut.
Kastro lay there, staring into space.
"I told you we should have killed him.
"The Zoldycks don't need deadweight."
Inside, Illumi leaned on a wall with hands in pockets, as if waiting for someone.
He tilted his head toward Roy; Roy didn't break stride—didn't even look at him—just headed up the mountain.
He left one line in Illumi's ear: "When I act, it isn't your turn to talk. Do it again and I'll slap your mouth."
Illumi's fists clenched. He stared at Roy's back a moment—then set off after him in silence.
"Young master." At the castle's front door, Luke bowed, waiting. In his hand—an electric baton. It looked ordinary, but the shin glyph inscribed along it pulsed outward in ripples you couldn't ignore.
[Shin Glyph]: a script in the Hunter world forged from Nen + special technique—used for weapon mod, ability enhancement, etc.
Famous large-scale use: Greed Island's card system.
Thinking on it—this was about when Ging would've gotten the idea.
Had he started "recruiting" yet? Maybe Razor…
Roy glanced at the glyph, ignored Luke, and looked up to the second floor. At the huge window, a broad-shouldered man stood with arms folded, looking down—no trace of joy or anger on his face.
He simply watched…
Luke waited in vain and bent lower. "Please, young master—this way to the training hall."
Roy didn't answer. He held the stare, static humming faintly in the air.
"Silva—it's time—keep going," a woman's voice drifted from behind the man as she wrapped his waist.
He stiffened, pivoted, swept her up, and carried her off to her shrieks.
"Fry him."
The lazy command floated down from the second floor…
Luke peeked up at Roy.
The boy walked past without a flicker.
"Need me to call you in?"
"Ah—yes…" Luke wiped his brow and followed with the baton.