"Living beings aren't like machines—they're diverse."
Roy had to admit it: for Gotoh to make it into the Zoldyck household as a butler, then rise above countless other butlers and become the next chief steward after the veteran Tsubone—his talent, compared to ordinary people, was easily "one in a hundred thousand," if not rarer.
But if you stacked him against the universally acknowledged "strongest human"…
Gotoh compared to Netero was like a firefly compared to the sun. The gap in talent was so vast it was almost impossible to quantify with the naked eye.
"What—do you think it's impossible?"
Roy didn't answer.
The world is material; "nen" is of the mind. But whether it's material or mental, in the end you still have to speak with objective facts.
"I can't picture a scenario where he beats Netero," the boy admitted after a moment.
In canon, even someone as monstrous as Meruem ultimately died—sure, Netero "cheated" by planting the Poor Man's Rose in his own heart, but still…
Meruem was a B+-tier powerhouse, only a hair away from A-rank, or what Maha called a demigod. In other words…
By the day Gotoh could defeat Netero, whether Roy knew the answer would have lost any practical meaning anyway…
"Because you can't imagine it, that's exactly why you have to dare to imagine it…" Maha leaned against the window frame with the dim little room behind him. Outside, the garden was in full bloom—spring warmth, life surging everywhere. His voice was deep.
"What is a god?"
"A totem."
"Faith."
"The symbol in people's hearts that can turn the impossible into possible."
"Roy." The old man's weathered eyes looked over, and his words came through as nen-speech—like thunder detonating right beside Roy's ears, making his hair stand on end and his scalp prickle.
"If I were you, I'd say: Let there be light, and the world must have light. I'd say Gotoh can do it, and he will win. My mouth is the ruler, the rulebook, the boundary where imagination finally becomes reality!"
Boom— thunder slammed into Roy's crown.
Roy jolted hard, like clouds splitting to reveal the sun. He stared at Maha, mouth slightly open, breathing in rough, ragged bursts.
He got it.
Maha was right.
Daring to imagine what no one dares imagine, doing what no one can do—that's what makes you inhuman… that's what makes you a god.
If I—the master—believe he can't, then he'll never beat Netero in this lifetime. And then…
"That would be my failure as his master."
Clarity hit like a flood. Roy shut his mouth, flared his nostrils, and exhaled a long dragon of breath. He bowed deeply.
"Great-grandfather—my thinking was narrow."
Maha just grunted faintly. Then he looked east. The red sun had risen, growing hotter, brighter, harder to stare at. Still leaning on the window frame, he said:
"You've read your Grandpa Zigg's notes too. In the end, the path of faith relies on believers. If you get strong but can't give your believers anything real—how will you make people willingly offer up their nen for you to take?"
A general fails, the whole army fails; a leader who doesn't serve the people is nothing at all.
"I understand." Roy straightened, took a breath, and said, "If you say so, then I'll dare to imagine it too. If one day Gotoh can even beat you…"
He grinned, bright as sunlight, teeth white as snow.
"Then my hunt for the gods—and my true start as a Hunter—won't be far."
Maha: "…"
A giant question mark practically appeared over his bald head. He stared at Roy, baffled, half-convinced he'd misheard.
That brat wants Gotoh to beat me…?
"Brat—what an appetite you've got!" the old man snapped, eyes bulging.
Roy didn't flinch. He just laughed loudly and strode past Maha, heading straight for his bedroom.
"Step… step…" His footsteps faded away. Wrapped in sunlight like a cloak, he called back over his shoulder with a carefree laugh:
"Great-grandfather, you're the one who taught me!"
He turned a corner and disappeared.
A warm breeze rose, carrying the first real heat of early summer.
Maha's lone stubborn cowlick swayed in the wind as he watched the boy go, mind drifting—like he was seeing Zigg back then. One was a Conjurer, and so was the other. The only difference was how much "crazy" each of them carried. Both were wild, both were bold, both were children with hands big enough to grab the sky.
White mist drifted up. As the last echoes of footsteps died out, Betty slipped out of Maha's nen like a wisp of fog and stood quietly at his side. Her gaze passed through walls to the boy already far away.
"Maha… I miss Zigg. That child—Roy—really is so much like him…"
Maha stayed silent. He only tightened an arm around his wife's waist and said softly:
"You'll see it. I promise you—you'll see the day he lives well."
Betty gave a small "mm," resting her head on Maha's shoulder and savoring the calm. Her eyes followed Roy's path until it reached his room.
"Master,"
"Rumble-rumble-rumble…" The wheels of the dining cart rolled over stone. Gotoh had dinner prepared and seemed to have waited outside the door for a bit. When he spotted Roy, the young steward bowed.
Then he looked up and met Roy's eyes—burning like torches. Gotoh froze, then awkwardly adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
"With the young master being born, the kitchen prepared extra tonics. I brought you a bowl too—please drink it while it's hot…"
He wheeled the cart inside, lifted the lid, and revealed a bowl of bird's nest congee—clear and glossy, sweet fragrance mixing with rice and bird's nest. The kitchen had clearly gone all out.
So I'm benefiting from Killua's birth too…
Roy withdrew his gaze, nodded, pulled out a chair, sat down, and took a spoonful of congee. After tasting it, he set the spoon down and said casually:
"Gotoh."
"Yes, Master."
"How long have you been with me?"
"Ten years, eight months, and twenty-one days," Gotoh answered without hesitation. "Back when Hall was still here, I was assigned to you as an apprentice butler."
He smiled. "Back then you were probably too young to remember me."
Hall—Tsubone's son—had since been sent out to oversee intelligence work. Roy gave a quiet "mm," then put the spoon down at the edge of the table and—smiling—looked Gotoh straight in the eyes.
"It's been that long, and I still haven't given you a real mission. You don't resent me for it, do you?"
How could he dare?
Gotoh immediately bent at the waist, right hand to his chest, sincere as a prayer.
"I've always known you were sparing me because you care, Master."
He straightened, voice firm and loud. "Please rest assured—if you ever have an assignment, just give the order. Let me show you how far I've come!"
With the Infinite Handgun in hand, Water Breathing mastered, Total Concentration: Constant active—recently even making progress in advanced techniques, successfully grasping En and Ryu—Gotoh was brimming with confidence as he made his pledge.
Roy nodded approvingly, not stingy with praise.
"Good."
"Go beat Netero."
"You don't have to kill him—just defeat him."
~~~
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