"Mm." Razor gave Roy a flat look, then let his gaze sweep across the room—stopping briefly on Gotoh, who'd been beaten into a full-on "pig head."
Holding the little booklet in his hand, Razor turned and left.
"Creak—" The door opened, then shut again. From the hallway came a low, lingering line:
"I'll be waiting."
His tall silhouette nearly filled the doorframe as he stepped out and strolled through the dim, yellow-lit corridor toward his room. On the way, he ran into a man in a worn hood, arms folded, leaning against the wall.
"Maybe he was joking," Ging said.
He adjusted the brim of his hat. "As much as I hate to admit it, I have to say this…"
"A person's birth decides most of their ceiling."
"Gotoh can't compare to you."
Dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes, and rats beget burrowers.
Ging had spent a decade digging through ruins—seeing civilizations rise and fall, seeing personal histories twisted into legends. Whether he liked it or not, he had to accept it:
Background and bloodline shaped talent, and talent shaped limits.
There were exceptions—but they were still just exceptions.
Razor stopped, shot Ging a cold glance, and said, "If he weren't a Zoldyck, you probably wouldn't have even asked him to lend a hand."
Ging didn't deny it.
In the original story, Ging had been the one to break the prison—alone.
At most, Elena would assist by monitoring and providing support.
Razor, under the corridor's weak light, ran his fingers over the booklet. His voice was low.
"I don't know if Roy was joking."
"But I do know this: when you say that, even you don't sound convinced."
Ging didn't hide the uncertainty in his words. He looked at Razor calmly.
"He's still a Zoldyck butler—and Roy's man."
Ging's tone softened.
"That kid always brings surprises."
"And you… aren't you drawn to him for the same reason?"
Razor answered without hesitation. "Yeah."
Then he kept walking.
Ging stayed quiet.
"Tap… tap…"
Footsteps faded into the distance.
Until—
"Creak—"
Razor opened his door and went inside, then slammed it shut with a "bang."
Only then did Ging lift his head, glance at the halo of light around the corridor lamp, and laugh under his breath.
"So who's the one who isn't confident?"
His body blurred—gone from the hallway.
Night. Neon. The seaside town roared into its liveliest hours.
Cars, crowds, early-summer heat—everyone was out.
Razor, newly freed, took a shower to wash off the "prison stink." Shirtless, he sat at the hotel desk and carefully studied Water Breathing.
From First Form: Water Surface Slash, to Second: Water Wheel, to Third: Flowing Dance, to the later forms…
All the way through—
Eleventh Form: Dead Calm.
He ran it all through his head.
Occasional flashes of sharp light flickered in his narrow eyes. After a long while, he closed the booklet, shut his eyes, and let the aftertaste settle.
"I owe him."
Pointing out Gotoh wasn't even close to repaying a gift like this.
This "Water Breathing" looked like swordsmanship—but in truth it was a secret method anyone could train.
It reshaped breathing, used specific points and rhythms, expanded oxygen intake, boosted cardio capacity, sped metabolism and blood flow…
And in a short window, it could massively raise physical performance and immediate combat power.
A genius idea.
At the end of the booklet were Roy's speculations about combining breathing styles with Nen.
Razor tested it.
He condensed a Nen shot at his fingertip—shaping it into "1," then "2"—then stood, used his hand like a blade, and began to practice the breathing movements.
That Nen shot started stretching, shortening, reshaping—becoming more and more fluid.
When he finished a full cycle, the "Nen shot" snapped into a Nen light sword.
With a casual sweep—
It sliced the desk clean in half, the cut smooth as glass—sharper than a laser.
Razor exhaled.
His heart wouldn't settle.
A panel prompt appeared:
[Potential follower Razor, loyalty +5…]
Same hotel. 10 PM.
A little over an hour after Gotoh's fight with Razor—
Roy received the prompt. He let Little Gold roll around on the bed while he spread a sheet of paper out and thought through doctrine.
Hearing movement behind him, he said gently, "If you're hurt, stop moving. Stay put."
A groan.
Gotoh woke up, dazed, and found himself on Roy's sofa with a blanket over him.
His eyes drifted to the desk—Roy's back, not broad, not especially tall, yet somehow carrying the faint presence of Silva.
Gotoh's mouth opened, wanting to speak, but all that came out was a quiet "Mm."
He'd lost—badly.
And as he replayed the fight in his head, he couldn't deny it:
In aura quantity and understanding of Nen, Razor was just… far ahead.
And those gaps weren't something you could simply grind away with effort.
Talent mattered.
Gotoh stared at the ceiling for a long time, lost.
Roy turned back, leaning against his chair with a smile.
"What, giving up already?"
Gotoh felt the warmth in Roy's gaze and gave a bitter smile.
"I won't lie, my lord… yeah. A little."
"Especially when you realize no matter how hard you work, you still might never catch up."
Roy nodded.
"Razor's one of the top Emitters. Outside of my grandfather and my father, almost no one beats him in 'Emission.'"
"My lord, I never planned to compare myself to the Great Master or the Master."
"Why not?" Roy looked at him seriously. "Gotoh, my expectations for you aren't limited to 'surpass Razor.'"
Gotoh: "..."
…Does my lord expect me to fight Master Silva?
"You really think highly of me."
"It's you who thinks too little of yourself." Roy didn't explain further. He just said meaningfully, "Heal up. The rest—I'll handle."
He closed his notes, walked to the window, and looked out into the neon-lit night.
Roy narrowed his eyes, rubbing the curse mark on his hand.
It's about time I finish Muzan and give Demon Slayer's world a clean sky.
"Dong—"
10 PM.
The grand church clock on Sherry Street rang out.
Roy lifted a finger, used Magnetism: Repulsion, and turned off the lights.
In the darkness, he quietly admired the nightscape. Then he went to bed, told Goldie to keep watch, folded his hands over his abdomen, and fell asleep.
Soon, with time ticking onward…
Soft breathing drifted.
Roy entered the dreamscape, crossed the colorful dream tunnel, reached the familiar Sea of Cognition—
and without hesitation, pushed open the Demon Slayer door.
"Caw!" A messenger crow circled above him. At his gesture, it spat out a letter.
To Kamado Rōichirō, personally
A few days apart—are you well?
I have accepted Kyojuro's sincerity and am willing to step down as leader. Please take charge of the Demon Slayer Corps, strengthen the Hashira, and bring demons to extinction. I beg you not to refuse. Please return so we may discuss this in person.
Ubuyashiki Kagaya, with deepest respects
Taishō Year 2, April 17
He finished reading. Another crow arrived with another letter—this one from Rengoku Kyojuro.
It explained in detail everything that had happened at the Ubuyashiki estate in the last two days.
Roy glanced over it once, then rubbed his fingertips together—sparking a tiny flame—and burned it to ash.
He pulled up the panel.
Ubuyashiki Kagaya was labeled as a "potential follower," with absolute loyalty.
Roy couldn't help but feel admiration.
A man willing to sacrifice himself and his entire family as bait—just to break the curse and kill Kibutsuji Muzan… his resolve was even stronger than Roy had expected.
Stepping down from leadership—something that would be harder than death for most people in power—he did it anyway.
Roy's eyes softened.
The Demon Slayer Corps still needs him. And I don't care about being "leader."
At dawn, with the red sun rising—
Roy wrote a short reply, then used Wind Breathing and mastered Silent Gait to travel calmly.
Along the way, with En, he killed a few demons hiding in the shadows and gained ten points of life energy.
Before noon, he returned to the wisteria-hidden estate.
"They're here!"
"Report to Kagaya-sama—Roy-sama has arrived!"
At the Ubuyashiki residence, all nine Hashira gathered—rarely seen.
Kagaya, wrapped in a blanket and supported by Amane beside a brazier, sat in the sunlight.
The curse had worsened. Even with spring long gone and early summer here, he still felt cold—shivering now and then, frail to the bone.
A breeze swept through, carrying wisteria petals.
As the "Kakushi" messenger scrambled in and reported, everyone turned to look—
Kagaya with Amane, his daughters Kiriya and Hinaki, and every Hashira present: Gyomei, Giyu, Sanemi, and the rest.
A patch of marshland appeared where the yard once was, and from it rose a figure—
flame-red hair swaying, noon sun overhead, a faint smile like always.
"Namu Amida Butsu…"
"Kamado Roy. We meet again."
"Yeah."
"Roy…"
"Little brother."
At the front of the corridor, Gyomei spoke a prayer, and the Hashira greeted him.
Some nodded. Some stared. Some smiled. Some watched in silence.
This time, most of their eyes carried a new, complicated weight.
"Thump—"
After Giyu quietly called him "little brother" and simply nodded…
Rengoku Kyojuro—standing at the left of the Hashira line—dropped to one knee and bowed with absolute devotion.
"Kyojuro pays respects to Roy-sama."
The yard went silent.
And in that silence, everyone's gaze grew even more complicated.
Roy calmly took it all in. He smiled, lifted a hand, and helped the tall young man up.
Then he opened the follower panel.
Follower: Rengoku Kyojuro
Faith: Sun God Church
Physique: 17 → 51 (ordinary person = 1)
Manifest Aura: D (3446/10000)
Potential Aura: D+ (8741/10000)
Loyalty: 540/1000 (Absolute loyalty)
Evaluation: Elite squad-captain level; once he learns Ren and awakens his Nen ability, he can solo any Upper Moon, not weaker than Upper One: Kokushibo
His physique had tripled…
"Praise the sun, Kyojuro. Every effort is rewarded. Congratulations on your progress."
"Praise the sun. It's all thanks to Roy-sama's gift." Kyojuro looked at Roy with gratitude.
Roy patted his shoulder, then drew a thin booklet from his coat and handed it to him.
"This is the sun's blessing. Don't slack off. Keep moving forward—walk the path of divinity."
The booklet contained Roy's notes on developing Ren and Hatsu, and key points from Silva and Jegg's writings.
Kyojuro flipped just two pages—and got completely absorbed.
That alone stirred envy in the others.
If following Kamado Roy meant power beyond Gyomei…
What was written in that thin booklet?
Something about "divine power"? Something even bigger?
Even Tokito Muichiro, the usual blank-faced one, couldn't help but lean forward.
A soft cough snapped them back.
Kagaya—supported by Amane—rose with effort, and in front of everyone, bowed toward Roy.
"Roy-sama…"
~~~
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