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[HxH] Ch 6 & 7
🕑 Added 2025-09-28 19:57:22 +0000 UTCCh 6: The Weight of the Sun
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A moment later the fog of sleep cleared enough for a spark to flicker in his eyes.
"My past life was real. The Roy from the Zoldyck house was real. The Roy from the Kamado Family was real. The Sun Breathing I learned in the Demon Slayer world was real too..." he thought.
It's like: if you told someone they were just fiction—just a character in an anime or a movie—would they believe you?
Hell no. Just the thought of it, they wouldn't accept it. Because they breathe, they feel, they love. They're still themselves. They have emotions, they have a life. They're fucking real, no matter what.
"All I need to do is handle the things in front of me. Treasure the people in front of me."
A faint smile returned to Roy's lips as he got up to dress.
It was nearly four. He couldn't skip his morning run. He'd treat it as warm-up for practicing Sun Breathing.
At the instant he woke, the system panel had shown the name: Sun Breathing. The text was dead gray, with a note. He had to bear the "Weight of the Sun" to activate it.
Weight of the Sun.
Roy pulled on his tank top and shorts and looked toward the horizon. A pale thread of dawn was already shredding the dark. The heat folded into that light looked sharp enough to test a man's mind.
He didn't know if he could make it. All he could do was try.
"If Yoriichi could do it, then I..." Roy trailed off. Like hell he could ever be like that monster—Yoriichi had shattered the very limits of his world.
"I'll do my best."
Roy took a deep breath, opened the door, and ran out.
Somewhere, an old man in a rocking chair was dozing off to cartoons. Down the hall, a bedroom hiding in shadow held a face so pale it seemed unmade; the eyes in that face snapped open. Upstairs in the master bedroom a man pinned a woman against the window in a clumsy, urgent embrace.
Everyone was busily at work, and Roy would not slack for a second.
Five kilometers—from the hilltop down and back up—was over in a flash. When he came back to his room the sky was on fire. Brilliant streaks of sunrise rode a red sun lifting over the skyline, bringing with it that primeval wildness and a promise of life.
Feeling it in his chest, Roy closed his eyes and began to practice Sun Breathing.
This time, he only used his mind. He took Sun Breathing as a focus and guided his nen through his body.
Then the burning hit.
It grew and grew as he moved through the forms—Dance, Clear Blue Sky, Raging Sun, and others—until the heat swelled into a single inferno that set him ablaze from toe to crown.
It hurt. It hurt terribly. It was the pain of being roasted alive on a pyre. Roy swayed, nearly blacking out.
He leaned against the doorframe and just kept himself upright.
"I want this rotten era turned to ash," a voice burned through his head.
"I want sunlight to reveal the petty and base, to leave nothing to hide. Make this world full of light."
"I want to use the sun's true flame to scorch every darkness, to slay every demon... Demons shouldn't exist in this beautiful world. "
Between pain and near-unconsciousness Roy thought he heard someone mumbling in a dream. A shape moved into the edge of his vision.
A swordsman with a flute. Deep red hair. Fiery markings spreading across his temples. He stood quiet at the end of time and watched Roy with soft eyes, smiling as if to say something like...
"Different paths, same destination."
"My brother, someone will surpass us and ascend to even greater heights. The breathing techniques would never die out."
This figure—Yoriichi Tsugikuni... the silhouette was painfully familiar.
Roy blinked and tried to focus on the face, then his legs gave out and he slid down the door gate of Demon Slayer world.
Then the burning faded. Relief washed over him in waves. He gasped and gulped air, near exhausted.
Thankfully, no suffering had been wasted. The panel chimed with gentle consolation.
[Notice: Sun Breathing activated.]
[Progress: Beginner (1/100).]
"At last," Roy breathed.
He smiled and opened his eyes. The sun shone and lay across his face. He couldn't help it—he spread his arms and drank the moment.
After a few minutes, the butler Gotoh came in with the breakfast cart as usual.
Gotoh knocked out of habit, though the door was already open. Roy sat carelessly on the floor.
Gotoh froze and walked up to help him to his feet.
At that instant Roy opened his eyes. Gotoh's pupils constricted as if someone had held a sun to them. It felt like being stared at by a laser. His vision blurred.
"Oh? Temporary blindness?"
Gotoh left silently.
...
Later, when Roy woke up and ate, Tsubone briefed him on what had happened.
Roy picked up a steak, frowned, and said, "Double his pay for the month."
"There's no precedent for that," the old butler said, hands folded across her chest. She spoke matter-of-factly. "He's a Zoldyck servant, a lowlife. As long as he does his job he's fine."
"But Master—" Tsubone's voice dropped. She bent close and fixed Roy with a stern, primate-like stare. "Master told me to ask you, sir. How did Gotoh get hurt?"
The doctor's diagnosis was simple. The eyeballs had reacted to an intense stimulus and produced a stress response that caused temporary blindness.
So what stimulus had done that?
Silva wanted to know. Tsubone wanted to know. But Gotoh hadn't said a thing.
"..."
Roy leisurely wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "I don't think it's my duty to tell a servant what's what."
"You call Gotoh a servant. Aren't you a servant too? A lowlife?"
Tsubone replied and nodded as if it were obvious. "Of course I am."
His tone shifted. "As for my father. Let him come ask me himself."
Roy pushed back his chair and stood.
He had a strange respect for a butler who'd die for the Zoldycks. He could not respect someone who refused to treat people as people and instead called them just servants or lowlifes.
He passed through Tsubone and then walked by a hollow-eyed corpse of a man.
Illumi looked as if he'd just finished killing someone. The metallic scent of blood clung to him. He had his hands in his pockets as he walked toward Roy. When he drew level he paused, turned his head, and shot a look that said, A servant is a servant."
"If he didn't fulfil his purpose," he said quietly, "he would be killed."
"Is that so?" Roy smiled coldly and left Illumi with a small, sharp image before he walked on.
"Then, little brother, what is your purpose? You should at least have an honest grasp of who you are. From what I see, you're nothing more than a puppet wearing a man's skin."
"You kill because you don't know how to live. Pathetic."
Illumi: "..."
With a soft whoosh, he attacked.
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---
Ch 7: Shirayuki
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Illumi spun and thrust straight for Roy's neck, using his right arm.
The carotid artery—most fragile spot on the body. Aside from ripping out hearts, it was one of Illumi's favorite ways to kill.
Roy heard the whisper of air and didn't even bother turning. His hand lashed back in a counter chop. Only difference was...
He wrapped his chop in nen.
Beyond the four basics—Ten, Zetsu, Ren, Hatsu—there were higher-level techniques.
Like En, expanding awareness. Like Shu, coating objects. Like In, hiding one's aura. Like Ken, reinforcing the body.
Roy hadn't formally studied any of them yet. Still, nothing stopped him from pushing his aura into his hand, sharpening the strike.
The result spoke for itself.
Both used Snake Awakens—
Two strikes flashed past each other. Illumi's was blocked, forcing him to slip back into the shadows.
He pressed himself against the wall, left arm raised defensively, right hand trembling uncontrollably.
Too hard...
The killer's instincts made him raise his left arm on reflex. But the target? Roy hadn't even shown the slightest interest in him.
Step... step...
The soft soles of Roy's sneakers tapped lightly against the old stone floor.
Without looking back, he flicked his hand dismissively and kept walking, as if he'd brushed aside a fly. In moments, he was gone from Illumi's sight, heading into the training hall.
Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, burning hot across the floor. Ideal conditions for practicing Sun Breathing.
Roy wasn't about to let a stray dog spoil his mood—or interfere with his training.
He shifted his stance and began to move.
Not long after, the Zoldyck training hall became home to a strange sight.
A boy in tight training clothes, dancing for hours on end, pushing the nerves of the entire household.
...
"He's still at it?"
"Yes. Still..."
"And his regular training?"
"Not neglected."
On a striped sofa, Silva propped his chin on one hand as Tsubone reported Roy's progress and his training. His expression turned thoughtful.
Then, to her shock—
He stood up, copying Roy's movements.
First Dance, then Clear Blue Sky, followed by Raging Sun, Burning Bones...
Finally, he finished with Sun Halo Dragon Head Dance.
When the form ended, Silva froze, deep in thought, unmoving for a long time.
Tsubone stood quietly by his side, hands folded, not daring to interrupt.
Her instincts told her clearly—she was a servant. A loyal servant who had served the Zoldycks for decades. Servants shouldn't interrupt when their master is lost in thought.
Still, she couldn't hide her astonishment. For the first time, she was seeing Silva imitate someone else. And that someone was the son he'd always thought had limited potential.
At last, five minutes later, Silva exhaled a long breath.
Expressionless again, he sat back down and waved her away.
The heavy wooden door creaked shut.
But his voice carried after her, making her whole body jolt. "Tell Roy to organize his insights on those movements and send me a copy."
His tone left no room for debate.
Tsubone froze.
After a long moment, she pressed a hand to her chest, bowed, and left.
That evening, she found Roy still in the training hall.
When he heard Silva's order, Roy wasn't surprised. He simply stopped, glanced up toward the master bedroom on the second floor, and refused.
The Sun Breathing was his trump card, a discipline he'd drawn out of the world through Nen. Whether out of respect for Tanjuro or out of a need for privacy, he couldn't—and wouldn't—teach it.
And the more he practiced, the more he realized how shallow his understanding still was.
Four hours in one afternoon, over twenty full sequences—but only once or twice had he truly entered the flow. The rest was wasted effort.
He didn't have the time or energy to teach anyone else.
And besides—this wasn't how you asked for something. Even if the one asking was his father.
"I think I have the right to say no." Roy wiped the sweat from his neck, blunt and direct.
Tsubone blinked, clearly not expecting refusal. This was Silva, after all—the current head of the Zoldyck family. Who dared say no to him?
Almost without thinking, she asked, "Can you at least give me a reason?"
Roy chuckled. Narrowing his eyes, he studied her closely for the first time. This fellow Nen-user—her Rider's High Conjurer could manifest different rides like Motorcycles and Gliders. Too much conditioning must've dulled her mind.
"A reason?" Roy draped the towel over his shoulders, looking at her mockingly.
He tilted his head. "When it comes to the master's affairs... servants don't ask questions."
Tsubone froze.
For a moment she stood rooted, unable to move or speak, before retreating in shame.
True to her nature, she cared for no Zoldyck child except Killua. Roy was no exception.
Roy, for his part, wasn't going to play nice with her either. He simply braced himself for Silva's retaliation.
But to his surprise, days passed without a word. As if the incident had never happened. Neither Tsubone nor Silva brought it up again—even though father and son crossed paths during that time.
Only when Gotoh returned did Roy catch wind of what had happened.
"She cut herself three times as an apology... she's resting now."
The young butler adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses as he served Roy dinner.
For once, Roy didn't know what to say. All he could think was: 'Yep. That's the Zoldycks.'
In this family, butlers were property. Dead men. Even if Roy liked to think otherwise, they embraced that role with pride.
You only had to look at the countless outsiders begging for the chance to serve the Zoldycks to see it.
So, Roy changed the subject. "The thing I asked you to look into—any progress?"
After noticing his training efficiency was dropping, Roy had analyzed the problem and found three reasons:
First, the Sun Breathing was essentially a sword dance—it required a blade.
Second, he lacked the "Total Concentration" method.
Third, he had no proper teacher.
The last two, he would have to solve by delving deeper into the Demon Slayer world.
But the first...
With a sharp metallic sound, Gotoh drew a katana from his waist and offered it with both hands.
"The Nen weapon you requested hasn't turned up yet, but... we did find a fine katana in the armory."
"What's it called?"
"Shirayuki."
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