The plastic of the telephone receiver groaned under Yuzuki's grip. The line had gone completely dead, but the toxic aftertaste of the Don's voice still seemed to linger in the air.
Silence stretched across the hotel room, thick and suffocating.
Zushi stood entirely frozen, his mouth half-open, looking between the blank television screen displaying that terrifying one-billion-Jenny figure and the furious silhouette of his fellow student.
Wing had stepped forward, his hand still frozen near his glasses, his usually mild manner completely eviscerated by the sheer volume of killing intent Yuzuki had just broadcast over a standard underworld frequency.
Even Bisky had stopped laughing. Her small, porcelain-doll face was shadowed, her twin tails motionless as her sharp blue eyes locked onto Yuzuki's back.
"Yuzuki," Wing spoke first, his voice dropping into a register that was uncharacteristically stern, devoid of his usual patient warmth. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
Yuzuki didn't answer immediately. He slowly set the receiver back onto its cradle, his shoulders dropping slightly as he drew in a long, steadying breath. When he turned around, the terrifying aura had vanished, tucked away behind his cool demeanor, but his eyes behind the dark sunglasses remained deadly serious.
"I told a stupid old man the truth," Yuzuki said casually, though the edge in his voice remained.
"The truth?!" Wing snapped, stepping directly into Yuzuki's space. "You didn't just reject a mafia negotiation, Yuzuki, you declared war on the Ten Dons! They are the absolute apex of the global underworld. They control entire nations from the shadows, command thousands of armed syndicates, and have access to Nen users specifically bred for slaughter. To them, a single rogue Nen user is an insect to be crushed with a bureaucratic stroke of a pen!"
"Wing is right!" Bisky chimed in, "One billion Jenny… that's a bounty meant for world-class terrorists! Every bounty hunter, assassin, and desperate mercenary on the planet is going to be looking for you now!"
Yuzuki didn't flinch. He simply crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back against the desk with a faint, humorless smile. "Let them look. They've been looking for a long time anyway. The only difference is now the price tag matches the headache."
"Don't play coy with me, brat," Bisky's voice cut through the room like a cold blade.
She stepped up beside Wing, her cutesy, diminutive posture masking the terrifying weight of a fifty-year-old martial arts master. She wasn't looking at him with her usual greedy sparkle or teasing grin.
Her expression was analytical, cold, and deeply observant. "You mentioned a name. Old Fin. And you told that Don that you were going to kill every single person associated with it. That isn't a defensive reaction to a bounty. That's a vendetta."
Yuzuki's smile faded entirely. The relaxed posture disappeared, replaced by a rigid, unyielding stillness.
"It's something I have to do," Yuzuki said, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper that filled the room more effectively than a scream. "Old Fin… what they did, what the mafia funded and covered up. It's the whole reason I left home. The reason I put these glasses on. The reason I learned to fight. I didn't seek out the Ten Dons, but if they're going to act as the shield for the monsters who destroyed everything I cared about, then I'll break the shield too. It's not a negotiation. It's a guarantee."
Wing stared at the boy, his anger melting away into a profound, heavy sorrow. As a master of Shingen-ryu, he had seen many Nen users consumed by the flames of retribution.
He knew that when an individual's resolve was forged in that kind of personal trauma, no amount of logical reasoning would turn them back. To try and forbid Yuzuki would only alienate him.
Wing exchanged a long, silent look with Bisky. A wealth of unspoken history passed between master and student in that single glance.
Bisky let out a long, dramatic sigh, placing her hands on her hips and tilting her head toward the ceiling. "Ugh, I swear, talented boys are always the most exhausting projects to polish. You have zero sense of self-preservation, you know that?"
Yuzuki blinked, slightly taken aback. "Master?"
"Listen to me carefully, Yuzuki," Bisky said, her tone shifting back to that of a strict, unyielding mentor. "Shingen-ryu kung fu isn't just about punching walls or manipulating aura. It's a discipline. And while I think you are being incredibly, spectacularly stupid… I also know that a warrior's path is theirs alone to walk."
She stepped forward and tapped him sharply on the chest. "But you are my student right now. And if those fat-cat mobsters think they can just erase a piece of jade I'm currently polishing, they've got another thing coming."
Wing adjusted his glasses, a resigned but fiercely determined smile appearing on his face. "If you ever need our help, Yuzuki… if the weight becomes too much, or if you find yourself backed into a corner you cannot escape… you tell us. We are willing to stand with you."
Zushi pumped his fist, his panic instantly morphing into fierce loyalty. "Me too, Yuzuki-san! I'll keep training until I can back you up!"
Yuzuki stared at the three of them. For a brief moment, the heavy, dark shroud of his past seemed to lift, replaced by a genuine warmth. He lowered his head slightly, a soft, sincere smile gracing his lips.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Seriously. But for now… let me handle the vanguard."
---
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away from Heavens Arena, a massive, high-security operations room sat bathed in the dim, blue glow of ten massive, high-definition monitors.
The room was utterly silent save for the hum of cooling fans and the heavy, furious breathing of the Don who had just been hung up on. His face was contorted in absolute rage, his knuckles white against the mahogany desk.
One by one, the other nine screens flickered to life, revealing the visages of the remaining Ten Dons. These were the rulers of the underworld. Elderly men with cold, dead eyes, draped in immaculate suits and surrounded by heavily armed guards.
"You called an emergency summit," one of the Dons spoke, his voice raspy and dry. "This had better not be about Vasco Melner's minor accounting discrepancies."
"Vasco is an idiot, but the situation has evolved far past him," the angry Don hissed, slamming his hand on the desk. "The brat, Yuzuki, just rejected our terms. Not only did he reject them, but he explicitly threatened to exterminate the Ten Dons to avenge whatever happened with Old Fin. And worse… he is actively acting under the protection of Chrollo Lucilfer."
The mention of Chrollo's name caused a visible shift across the other nine monitors. The casual arrogance in the older men's expressions vanished, replaced by an icy, calculated focus.
"The Phantom Troupe," another Don murmured, his eyes narrowing. "They have been a thorn in our side for too long. A pack of rabid dogs from Meteor City who do not respect the hierarchy. If they are forming an alliance with a rogue high-tier asset like this boy, our entire supply chain could be compromised."
"Exactly," the first Don stated firmly, leaning forward into the camera. "Which is why we must eliminate the Phantom Troupe now. Now is the absolute best time to do it. They are scattered, arrogant, and currently treating Heavens Arena like a playground."
"And what do you suggest?" a Don from the center screen asked. "Ordinary hitmen are useless against the Spiders."
"We don't use ordinary hitmen," the Don replied, a cruel, confident smirk twisting his lips. "I suggest we deploy all ten of the Shadow Beasts simultaneously. Let them descend upon the city as a single, unbroken unit. Crush Chrollo and the boy before the other Spiders can even catch wind of the deployment and gather to support them."
The screens remained quiet for several seconds as the grandmasters of the mafia weighed the options.
The Shadow Beasts were their ultimate deterrent. Monsters among monsters, individuals whose Nen capabilities were legendary within the underworld. Using all ten at once was a historic escalation, but the threat warranted it.
"Agreed," the central Don finally spoke.
"Agreed," echoed another.
One by one, the votes fell into place. "Let the Shadow Beasts hunt. Erase the boy, erase the Spiders, and remind the world who owns the shadows."
---
At that very same moment, across town in a dimly lit, minimalist suite, Chrollo Lucilfer sat calmly in an armchair.
A single reading lamp illuminated the open pages of Bandit's Secret resting on his lap.
Standing around the room, draped in various postures of casual indifference, were Machi, Pakunoda, Shizuku, and Shalnark.
"...And then they'll vote unanimously to deploy all ten Shadow Beasts at once, hoping to crush us before the rest of the Troupe can assemble," Chrollo said, his voice smooth and melodic, entirely unbothered as he spoke the exact strategy of the mafia leadership word-for-word.
Shalnark, who was leaning against the wall casually scrolling through his custom phone, let out a bright, cheerful laugh. "Wow, Boss! You practically read their minds. It's almost sad how predictable those old men are. They think their little 'beasts' are the peak of evolution." He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Still, all ten at once could be a bit tedious if they coordinate well. Should I make a few calls? We could have Phinks, Feitan, and Nobunaga here by tomorrow morning."
"No," Chrollo replied softly, turning a page of his book without looking up. "There's no need to disrupt the others' schedules for this."
Machi, who was sitting cross-legged on a side table casually spinning a spool of Nen threads around her fingers, glanced toward Chrollo with a cold, unreadable expression. "You're awfully relaxed, Boss. Are you planning on taking them all yourself, or are you counting on that brat to do the heavy lifting?"
"The Ten Dons suffer from a chronic lack of imagination," Chrollo murmured, a faint, enigmatic smile appearing on his face. "They see a child with a high bounty and assume he is a target to be collected. They completely underestimate the prowess of Yuzuki."
Pakunoda, crossing her elegant legs as she leaned against the window frame, looked over over her shoulder. "You think he's that capable?"
"I do," Chrollo said, finally closing his book with a soft thud. "Based on the aura fluctuations I observed during his brief skirmish with Dawn Seven, his combat efficiency is highly refined. If the Shadow Beasts split their forces to handle both of us… I believe Yuzuki alone could take out at least five of them."
Shizuku, adjusting her glasses as she held her vacuum cleaner, Blinky, by her side, tilted her head innocently. "And the other five?"
"The rest of us here can easily handle the remainder," Chrollo said smoothly, his dark eyes glinting in the lamplight. "But more importantly… Yuzuki has an auxiliary asset. That little girl who travels with him."
Machi stopped spinning her threads, her sharp intuition instantly spiking. "The blonde one? She looks like a spoiled rich kid."
"Appearances are the first line of deception," Chrollo remarked, standing up from his chair and walking slowly toward the large glass windows overlooking the glittering neon lights of the city. "For some reason… I feel she is far more powerful than what meets the eye. Her presence is too perfectly contained. Her Zetsu is too natural. If the mafia sends their beasts into that hotel room expecting an easy slaughter, they are going to find a meat grinder instead."
Chrollo placed a hand against the glass, looking out over the sprawling metropolis as the first drops of a new rain began to fall. His smile widened, carrying the dark, theatrical amusement of a man who viewed the world as his personal stage.
"Let the games begin," he whispered.
---
Six days later.
The high-stakes tension of the underworld felt completely distant inside Yuzuki's Heavens Arena suite. The afternoon sun streamed through the wide windows, illuminating a scene of bizarre domestic tranquility.
Sprawled completely out on the plush velvet couch, her shoes kicked off and her legs dangling over the armrest, was Bisky. She was entirely engrossed in a glossy men's fashion magazine, her eyes tracking hungrily over a page featuring a heavily muscled, shirtless young model.
"Oh, my," Bisky muttered to herself, turning the page with a delighted giggle. "Now that is what I call proper structural definition. Modern tailoring really does wonders for a well-built chest..."
A few feet away, completely ignoring her, Yuzuki and Kastro sat opposite each other around a small, low wooden coffee table.
Kastro looked stiff, his posture rigid and his expression clouded with a deep sense of guilt. He bowed his head low toward the boy sitting across from him. "Yuzuki… I must apologize to you again. You are dealing with an unprecedented crisis, your bounty has reached astronomical proportions, and you should be dedicating every waking second to your own survival and training. Yet, here I am, taking up your precious time..."
Yuzuki waved his hand dismissively, flashing a relaxed, easygoing grin. "Kastro, seriously, don't worry about it. I told you, my schedule is completely clear right now."
Yuzuki leaned back, tapping a finger against the wooden table. "I already completed my required quota for the 200th floor of Heavens Arena. I'm entirely safe from forfeiture for the next several months, and officially, I am now eligible to challenge a Floor Master. In fact, I already put out my official challenge tokens to multiple Floor Masters yesterday. Now, I'm just waiting for one of them to stop sweating and actually accept the match."
Kastro looked up, his eyes widening slightly. "Multiple Floor Masters? You aren't aiming for a specific one?"
"Eh, whoever steps up first gets the privilege of losing to me," Yuzuki said with a chuckle. His expression then softened, becoming focused and grounding. "Besides, a martial artist who can't manage his time isn't much of a master anyway. You asked me for guidance, and I gave you my word."
Yuzuki reached out, resting his palms flat on the table. The casual air around him evaporated, replaced by the precise, authoritative aura of a seasoned practitioner.
"Now then," Yuzuki said, his eyes locking onto Kastro's with absolute clarity. "Shall we begin? Let's teach you how to properly wield Nen."
---
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