"Per your request it's two million volts this time; passing is still two minutes. Young master, brace yourself."
Inside the training hall.
Roy shrugged off his shirt in one smooth motion, revealing finely cut muscle.
Luke reported while readying the baton, sneaking a cautious glance—the young master looks taller… and thicker than a few days ago. Like bamboo after rain, he'd shot up—fast.
Luke had an eye for it. Compared to days earlier, Roy's Physique really had doubled. Even pacing his "life energy" intake, the senses don't lie—something had changed.
"Do it." Hands on hips, feet nailed to the floor, he stood straight.
"Forgive me, young master." Luke set the baton—shin-glyph humming—and the detonating light made it hard to keep eyes open.
Cre-eak— Illumi pushed the door, watched—and counted… ten seconds, twenty, thirty, a minute, two… Why hasn't he blacked out?
Roy stood as if nothing touched him, aura silent, letting the current roam his body—no swaying, not even a grunt.
A ghost, then?
"Young master—passed."
Two minutes hit. Luke's hands trembled.
"Keep going. I didn't say stop."
…Luke gritted his teeth and poured on more Nen. The readout jumped: 2.10 million volts.
"Haven't eaten? More."
2.20 million.
"More! I want to see your limit."
"You force my hand, young master!"
"Young Master Illumi—bear witness!"
Luke opened his Ren full bore— the numbers leapt to 3 million volts.
He went all in—like thunder split the floor.
The electric bloom balled and burst—Roy finally staggered two steps and dropped.
Eyes red, Luke looked to Illumi. "Young master. How many volts for you?"
Illumi said nothing.
And after a long beat:
"Same as always. One million… I guess."
Bzzzt…
The baton tapped—and night fell.
Two hours later, two heads woke in the garden. They glanced, then both turned away.
Between them lay a snoring "Milluki pig"—Luke's little extra, after Roy and Illumi.
"Three million volts doesn't prove strength—just that you're shock-proof." A wind stirred the willow. Illumi rasped, "In the end, a Nen user stands on Nen. If I use Ten, I can block it too."
Roy said nothing—until Illumi turned back and stared. "Why don't you speak?"
Roy closed his eyes.
"Am I wrong?"
"Shut up."
"…Okay."
The world went quiet.
Till dusk—sunset bled and the sky took fire.
Roy's sense returned first. He climbed out of the pit and shook off the dirt.
A grunt—Milluki blinked awake, glanced at Roy, then at Illumi—then waddled over, dropped his pants, and squatted—
"You dare!"
Boom! Dirt flew as Illumi blasted from the pit, grabbed Milluki by the scruff, and hauled him toward the hall. "Still not strong enough! The shock was too light!"
Roy could almost hear the boy's mind howling. He stood under the willow and watched the sunset be eaten by darkness, then turned toward his room.
The corridor lamps were lit, drawing his shadow long. He paused to bow.
Maha stood at the window, admiring the night. He turned and beckoned, smiling.
Roy stepped up. The old man squeezed his arm and nodded, satisfied. "You didn't starve out there. Now that you're back, cook more. Look at me—so skinny I can't get it up in the morning…"
Hnmmm… maybe that's for other reasons?
Roy feigned deafness and nodded. "Okay."
"And slice some sausage into the dishes—your Grandpa Zigg loves it…"
"…What—who?" Roy looked up sharply.
Maha leaned on the sill, gazing over Kukuroo. "Your Grandpa Zigg."
Then, a faraway tone and lazy wave: "Go on and prep. Someone will come for you tomorrow."
"…"
Roy stared a moment. "Yes."
He brushed past, turned the corner, and was gone.
After he left, shadow wriggled from a dim corner. White hair and beard—younger hands clasped behind his back. Zeno took Roy's spot at the window and said softly, "Grandfather—maybe you're a bit early?
"The ways to teach Ren are many. No need to call 'Father' in right away…"
(A privilege reserved for the heir.) He didn't say it—but he knew Maha understood.
Nations have law; houses have rules. Guard them, and a great house runs true—provided:
"I am the rules," Maha snapped, glaring. "Can't reach—squat."
Zeno froze. "Grandfather, I have a grandson now, perhaps—"
"I don't care. Squat."
"…Yes." Hands over his head, he sank down. Maha cracked him on the skull—ringing his ears.
"Rules are dead; people live. Back then it was just you and Silva—no choice. Now—what, no silver hair, no house?"
"Silva's trying."
"Get lost!" Maha's kick toppled Zeno. "It's settled. Anyone unhappy—send them to me. Let's see if you've grown a spine in all these years!"
Bang! The door slammed.
Maha vanished.
Zeno brushed off his clothes, stood, and lingered a while. He looked toward Roy's room, shook his head, and walked away.
Night deepened. Cartoons chirped in the little room. Roy returned to his own, laid Maha's notebook on the table, and stared into space.
Behind him, Gotoh quietly set out dinner.
"Tell the kitchen to prep ingredients—I'm cooking tomorrow," Roy said suddenly.
Gotoh had pen and pad out in a blink. "Ingredients?"
"Pig's head—no, forget it, can't braise. Chicken, fish, fresh greens—and sausage. Lay in extra sausage."
"Anything else, young master?"
"Yes…" Roy peered through the glass at the full moon and narrowed his eyes. "A bouquet of chrysanthemums.
"Make them yellow."
~~~
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