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Hunter x Hunter: The Sun Breathing Zoldyck - 115
🕑 Added 2025-11-14 19:01:41 +0000 UTCChapter 115: Giyu Tomioka Arrives × Master and Disciple Reunite
A month for the staff, a year for the blade, a lifetime for the spear. Long weapons must be studied for life. As the commander of a hundred arms, the sword, too, is counted in years.
By night, Giyu Tomioka ran beneath the moon, the red and yellow-green halves of his haori flashing between trees. One hand rested on his Nichirin Blade as he turned over Master Sakonji Urokodaki’s letter to the Master of the Corps, Ubuyashiki Kagaya, again and again in his mind.
Expectation and that tight, homesick ache grew stronger with each step toward Mount Sagiri.
A pity. Master had written that the new junior had not yet begun learning a Breathing Style. Otherwise, Giyu would have allowed himself a little indulgence during this visit and given the “inspection” some teeth.
He maintained Total Concentration Breathing, keeping it constant, as he ate and rode the miles home. After nearly two more hours, passing through a town and out again, Mount Sagiri rose ahead in the distance.
In those woods stood a small house he could not stop thinking about. Deeper in the trees, cenotaphs kept company with the names of his senior and junior siblings.
White breath left his lips. He slowed, tuned his breathing, and climbed with careful steps. In a clearing by moonlight, a small cabin stood quiet and alone.
A single lamp burned inside, casting a warm, yellow beam of light.
Through the paper window, a stooped, aged silhouette could be seen bent over a low desk, writing something… or perhaps waiting for someone. Giyu drew a long breath, softened his steps, and came closer. A chill breeze lifted a corner of the paper.
From within, a kind smile met him.
“Master, Giyu is back.” Makomo set a small line on paper with her brush. She hardly needed to say it.
Sakonji Urokodaki had already caught Giyu’s scent on the mountain wind.
Through the window corner, master and disciple looked at each other. The elder smiled. The younger dipped his head. Wet shone across his eyes.
“Shh. Eiichiro is still sleeping,” Urokodaki whispered, sliding the door open on quiet hands to let Giyu step inside.
It was early spring, and the snow had not fully melted, so the hearth was lit.
The old Water Hashira had guessed Giyu would arrive by night. He had the kotatsu set and a pot of tea warmed. He poured and handed the cup across.
Giyu took a sip. The familiar taste washed half the road from his bones. He lifted his eyes toward the corner of the heated bed, where a boy lay asleep.
His hands folded over his belly. Breathing steady. Face peaceful. In lamplight, his hair burned a clear, vivid red, bright as flame—more fire than even Kyojuro’s blazing mane.
The thought came unbidden and absurd. Perhaps the boy would suit Flame Breathing even more than the Rengoku line.
Once the thought took hold, it rooted itself in his mind and would not let go.
“You see him?” Urokodaki followed Giyu’s gaze and glanced, smiling, at Roy. “That is Eiichiro... Your junior.”
Giyu said nothing.
Urokodaki knew his cool nature well. He pulled a futon from the wooden cupboard and spread it out, the same bedding Giyu had used years ago. Smoothing the creases, he said, “The Kasugai Crow came late. I didn’t know when you would be back, so I couldn’t set this out in the sun. Make do with it for tonight. Tomorrow at noon, when the sun is strong, we’ll put it out to air.”
“As for Sabito’s set, Eiichiro has been using it.”
Giyu sniffed quietly and stood. “I should go pay my respects to my seniors and juniors.”
He had barely moved when Urokodaki stopped him with a soft word. “No need.”
The old man finished the bed and looked around, kindness in his eyes. “They are all here. No sense making the long trip when the near path is at your feet.”
Giyu halted. “?”
He turned at once to meet the certainty in his master’s eyes. The paper screen fell back, and a veil of cool wind stirred through the little room. One draft pushed too hard and was promptly thrashed by another.
“Fukuda, what are you trying to do?”
“I said, be quiet. You’ll wake Eiichiro.”
“I got excited seeing Giyu…”
“Who wouldn’t be excited? You’re the only one carrying on like this.”
“Yes, yes, it’s my fault. All my fault. I was wrong, all right?”
Shinsuke eased his wind and circled around Giyu. Giyu frowned—then felt a weight on his shoulder. Master’s hand.
“Come,” Urokodaki said, patting him and leading him to the table.
A small wonder: the brush rose on its own and wrote on the paper spread and ready.
“Welcome home, Giyu. I am Makomo.”
Then,
“Giyu, you finally came back. I am Shinsuke.”
And,
“I am Fukuda. I am Shimizu. I am Watanabe. I am… Yagiku.”
Line after neat line. Names familiar and less so. Giyu’s body shook.
His fingers dug into the table edge as he bowed his head and dragged a breath. When he looked up, his eyes were red. His voice trembled. “Sabito. Are you here too?”
The paper lifted at one corner. In the white of the page, a line appeared. “I am.”
“Giyu, welcome home.”
Sabito smiled at the boy. After a year, he had grown taller. He was darker. More worn. With his nature, he had surely traveled through the night, not sparing himself food or shelter. At the end, he added, “You have worked hard.”
The tears simply would not stop. Giyu clamped his mouth shut and tipped back his chin. Two warm tracks slid down his cool cheeks. He wiped them away, but they kept spilling over, again and again, faster than he could keep up.
On the page, Sabito teased, “Still a crybaby, just like when you were little.”
Only then did the tears break into a laugh and stop.
Once, Giyu had thought Master lived alone and must be lonely all these years. Now he saw his seniors and juniors kept him company. Even if Giyu died in a future fight, there was nothing left to fear for those at home.
Relief loosened something that had been knotted inside him for years.
By lamplight, Giyu wanted to hold this chance a little longer. One more exchange with Sabito and Makomo. One more lap around the table with Shinsuke, Fukuda, and the rest.
His head sank forward as a hand ruffled his hair. Urokodaki, just as he had when Giyu was a child, looked at him gently. “You have been on the road for days. Sleep first.”
“In the morning, let Eiichiro take you to see your brothers and sisters with your own eyes.”
Giyu: “…”
He could still see them?
