Hunter x Hunter: The Sun Breathing Zoldyck - 142

Chapter 142: Reforged Lives × When We Meet Again, Muzan Will Die

Several gazes turned toward him in perfect unison, as if rehearsed.

Makomo’s head snapped up. Sabito’s eyes shone.

Urokodaki set down his knife and looked back. Eiichiro smiled, teeth flashing white. He spoke as if to himself. "I promised Sensei that once I killed the Demon King, I would come back up the mountain and drink with all my seniors. I cannot exactly drink alone. I always thought it would be much more fun if everyone could be there together."

A gust of cold wind passed through.

In a blur, Makomo was in front of him, grabbing his hand. "Eiichiro, do you… have a way?"

Her eyes were full of hope and fear, bright and trembling as they fixed on him.

Eiichiro nodded lightly. "Of course."

He looked around, letting his gaze rest on Sabito, Shinsuke, Fukuda, and the others. "I will need each of you to choose an item as a new resting place. With that as your anchor, I can go all out avenging you."

"And you will not have to fear disappearing."

"What kind of item?"

"Any special requirements? Like wood or stone soaked in yin energy?"

"Eiichiro, can you really do something like that again?"

The little house came alive. Wind swirled around Eiichiro.

Shinsuke, Fukuda, Watanabe, Shimizu… one after another, they crowded in until he was ringed on all sides.

Sabito leaned against a pillar, watching in silence as his junior patiently answered every question. For the first time, he clearly felt how good it was to have Eiichiro here.

He, Makomo, Shinsuke, Fukuda, all the juniors, even Sensei… none of them seemed to realize it yet.

They had slowly, quietly begun to lean on Eiichiro.

When had it started?

Perhaps from the very first day, he and his little brother had climbed Mount Sagiri.

Sabito’s lips curved. He stepped forward, gently shouldering the others aside, and clapped Eiichiro on the shoulder. "Let me set an example for the juniors."

When something might go wrong, someone had to step up and take responsibility. It was not that Sabito did not trust Eiichiro’s ability.

He just could not stand to see anyone else "go" before him.

If someone had to be the first to vanish, then let it be the eldest brother.

"Senior…" Makomo looked between Sabito and Eiichiro, words dying on her tongue. Shinsuke and Fukuda fell silent. Sabito had always led them. Once he chose a path, no one could shake him.

They could only glance at Eiichiro, eyes full of wordless hope.

Eiichiro was calmer than they expected. He said nothing, just dipped his head to Sabito in a small nod.

The fox-masked youth scanned the room.

Urokodaki had finished washing his hands. He reached under the cabinet and pulled out a wooden box. When he opened it, rows of small wooden figures looked back at them, carved in lifelike detail.

Looking closely, it was obvious they were carved in the likenesses of Sabito, Makomo, Shinsuke, Fukuda, and the others.

The old man picked up Sabito’s carving and set it on the edge of the hearth. "Use this."

"This one is perfect," Sabito said, teasing Eiichiro. "Only dead disciples get this treatment. You and Giyu will never have one."

The figures were Urokodaki’s way of remembering the disciples he had lost. Some of them had sat and watched him carve.

The others shared a quiet smile and rolled up their sleeves, each taking their own carving and lining them up neatly on the mats.

Eiichiro did not hesitate. He picked up Sabito’s figure and coated it in Nen. Then, using Will Scissors, he snapped the Nen line and formed Shu.

Wrapped in milky Aura, the wooden carving shed its mundane shell and rose as a Nen tool.

He set it down and nodded. "Senior. Please."

Sabito inclined his head and turned into a gust of wind that dove straight into the carving. The others held their breath.

In a sharp flicker, the wooden Sabito’s eyes opened.

In an instant, it was alive.

He rolled his shoulders, stretched his legs, and twisted his neck. It was Sabito in miniature.

"It worked." Shinsuke gaped and grabbed the tiny Sabito with both hands, only to freeze when the little face glared up at him. He withdrew with an awkward laugh.

The fox-masked boy stared at his new body in disbelief. It was like being born again. The very first thing he did was kneel.

Eiichiro had expected it and stepped aside before he could.

"Good. Very good. Better than good." Urokodaki’s old eyes shone wet. His voice had never been so deep. "Eiichiro, your senior is thanking you. You should accept it."

Giving them bodies again was no less than granting them life.

"Sensei is right," Sabito said, clenching his tiny fists. "If only there were a sword to go with this. I would go down the mountain with you and fight that demon again."

"Why should Senior be the only one to get the perks?"

"If you go, we all go."

"That is right. We will have the swordsmiths make us some smaller Nichirin Blades. This time, I am taking that demon’s head."

Their spirits surged.

Eiichiro felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked down. Makomo stared up at him. "Hey, Eiichiro. My turn."

"I could never forget you."

He picked up her carving and did as he had with Sabito’s, layering Shu over it.

Makomo plunged in without waiting. When her wooden eyes opened, she spun in a delighted circle. She had never felt the miracle of being alive so clearly.

"Eiichiro, my turn… and mine… me too…"

One after another, after Sabito and Makomo, Shinsuke, Fukuda, Watanabe, Shimizu, and the rest all took their turns. Little wooden bodies came to life, arms and legs pumping as they leapt around the house. To someone who did not know better, it would have looked like a nation of tiny people.

Urokodaki watched them play, smiling, making no move to stop them. The guilt and self-blame that had weighed on him for so many years quietly dissolved.

"Sensei, the pot is about to boil over."

Steam rattled the lid, ready to blow. Makomo darted over, turned off the fire, and pressed the lid down in one smooth motion. She would never have managed such a thing before.

"Coming," Urokodaki said, chuckling as he lifted the lid. The smell of miso soup drifted out.

Sniff sniff.

The sound of flaring nostrils went around. Shinsuke, Fukuda, and the others all froze, startled.

They could smell it.

Heads turned toward Eiichiro.

He rubbed his chin, thinking, and then realization dawned. Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch. All five senses were signals that were perceived and interpreted by the brain through imagination.

Nen was itself a product of imagination. With Nen as their core, it was only natural that the wooden bodies would develop senses as well.

"You can hear, see, smell, touch, and taste," he said. "You just cannot digest."

He smiled. "Congratulations, Seniors. Welcome back to life."

Shinsuke jumped up and socked him in the arm. "I knew you could pull it off, Eiichiro."

He had barely landed when Fukuda grabbed him from behind, arms locking around his neck. Shinsuke flailed. "Wait, wait, wait. I am made of wood. Fukuda, take it easy."

"Now you know fear?" Fukuda snorted and let him go. He pressed Shinsuke’s head down and bowed toward Eiichiro, just as Sabito had done.

Then it was Shimizu. Watanabe. Yakiju. One by one, the little figures bowed.

This time, Eiichiro did not dodge. He accepted their thanks with a light heart, then glanced at Sabito by the pillar. Their eyes met, and both smiled.

"Soup is ready."

Makomo’s call rang out as she trotted over, little legs going tap tap tap on the floor. She carried a pot of porridge in both hands, a streak of it still on her mouth. She had tasted it. It was delicious.

As soon as she set it on the low table, tap tap tap, Shinsuke, Fukuda, and the others swarmed in, eyes shining with hunger.

Urokodaki came out with a plate of sashimi. The sight made his chest ache. These wandering spirits who had roamed the mountains alone finally had a place to belong.

That was its own kind of release.

He told everyone to fetch bowls and chopsticks. They sat around the brazier in a circle.

"Itadakimasu." He pressed his palms together. The word had barely left his mouth before the table was hit by a storm. In a blink, Shinsuke, Fukuda, and the others had torn through more than half the food. Even the normally prim Makomo and Yakiju had two extra bowls of rice. Sabito laughed. "You should just taste it. Do not forget what Eiichiro said. You can eat, but not digest. It is a waste of food."

"It is fine," Eiichiro said. He understood. If he had been "starving" that long, he might have gone wilder than Shinsuke.

"Let them eat," Urokodaki said, eyes crinkling. "There is plenty of rice."

They were small. They could not put away that much. Breakfast passed in a storm of chatter and laughter.

Afterward, Eiichiro helped Urokodaki and Sabito wash the dishes, then began to pack.

Silence settled over the house again.

When he had come to Mount Sagiri, he had only carried a bamboo basket and a change of clothes. He left the same way. It did not take long to pack his bag. He kept one change of clothes and took his short blade into his hand.

Time to go down the mountain.

The door opened with a creak.

Urokodaki said nothing. He had boiled a fresh pot of rice and wrapped rice balls with sashimi for Eiichiro, then clapped him on the shoulder and smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes. All the words in his heart ended up as one line.

"Go."

Sabito, Makomo, Shinsuke, Fukuda… they lined up in silence and watched.

Eiichiro waved with a smile and turned away without a word, leaving without taking even a cloud with him.

Morning light filtered through the mist, scattering bright points over his not-quite-tall back.

Makomo cupped her hands to her mouth. "Come back safe."

Eiichiro’s step hitched. "Of course."

He lifted his foot. In an instant, he was gone from their sight.

"Do not stare. It will not be long before you see him again," Sabito said, ruffling Makomo’s hair.

She answered with a quiet "mm", but her feet stayed planted. Her body was more honest than her voice.

Half a year was neither long nor short. Eiichiro was not made of wood. He felt just how clingy the sorrow of parting could be. So, like Giyu, he chose to leave cleanly and quickly.

Not for any noble reason.

Just for the sake of reunion.

Next time we meet will probably be after Muzan Kibutsuji is dead.

His grip on the short blade tightened. His pace quickened. His figure flickered through the trees, a ghost moving through the forest. He left Mount Sagiri behind and headed straight for Fujikasane Mountain.

The Demon Slayer Corps’ annual Final Selection had already begun.

Ubuyashiki estate.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki sat covered with a blanket, listening as Hina and Nichika reported on the arrangements.

At some point, Gyomei Himejima, who was chanting sutras at his side, spoke. "Master, Giyu Tomioka has arrived."

A guard’s report followed soon after.

Giyu, wearing his red, yellow, and white patterned haori and carrying the secret of the Bright Red Blade, walked the corridors and appeared before Kagaya, travel-worn and dusted from the road.