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"What's in the forest?" Illumi asked, his hands cupping a mound of dirt. His hollow, pitch-black eyes stared blankly at Irumi.
"Ants, bees, bears, vipers. A lot of things," Irumi replied. He toyed with a plastic car for a moment before tossing it aside into the sand, already bored.
Illumi picked up the discarded toy and methodically began packing the plastic chassis with sand. "Did you see them?"
"No."
Illumi's brow furrowed slightly, a rare display of confusion. "If you didn't see them, how do you know they're in there?"
Irumi ignored the question. He dropped into the dirt across from his twin, fixing him with a level stare. "Illumi. Our training begins in three days. Are you ready?"
"Yes. Of course." Illumi nodded, entirely unfazed by the prospect of the family's brutal regimen. "Are you?"
Irumi spread his hands in a nonchalant shrug. "I am." Ever since he had awakened in this world and realized he had been born into the Zoldyck family, he had been mentally bracing himself for this exact moment. Childhood was merely a waiting period.
"I'm done playing. Let's head back." Irumi stood and brushed the sand from his trousers. He glanced up at the curly-haired butler who hovered nervously nearby. "Take us back, Delica."
"Right away, Master Irumi."
The butler immediately trotted forward, taking Illumi's small hand in hers. They trailed slightly behind Irumi as they began the trek back to the main estate. The walk from the private playground to the Zoldyck mansion took a full ten minutes. While Illumi still required the physical grounding of a caretaker's hand, Irumi flatly refused to let anyone touch him.
As they approached the imposing front doors, they swung open to reveal a towering, heavily built older woman.
"Master Irumi. Master Illumi," Tsubone greeted, offering a slight, respectful bow before gesturing them inside. "Welcome home."
Irumi led the way over the threshold, with Illumi and the caretaker following a step behind.
Hm? Just inside the foyer, Irumi noticed a teenager standing stiffly behind Tsubone. The boy wore a crisp tailcoat and wire-rimmed glasses. His expression was stony, his posture rigid, and his eyes stared dead ahead.
"This is our newest addition to the estate," Tsubone explained, noticing Irumi's appraising gaze.
The teenager immediately executed a flawless, disciplined bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Master Irumi. I am Gotoh, the new butler-in-training."
Irumi studied the sharp angles of the boy's face. Gotoh. He recognized him instantly as the fiercely loyal head butler who, decades from now, was fated to have his throat slit by Hisoka's playing cards. Irumi said nothing. He simply gave a curt nod of acknowledgment and bypassed them both, heading straight down the cavernous corridor. Illumi drifted silently in his wake.
Tsubone stood near the entrance, her sharp eyes tracking the two small, retreating figures. "What are your initial impressions of the young masters?" she asked casually.
"Master Irumi is highly assertive and exceptionally composed," Gotoh answered honestly, his gaze remaining fixed straight ahead. "Master Illumi appears... difficult to read. I cannot discern much else."
Tsubone removed her monocle, meticulously polished the glass with a silk handkerchief, and secured it back over her eye. A knowing smile touched her lips.
"Master Irumi possesses terrifying potential. The staff is quite fond of him," she murmured, her voice dropping to a cool, pragmatic pitch. "If only his bloodline were a little purer. I think I would favor him much more."
Gotoh maintained his rigid, emotionless facade, but he understood her meaning perfectly. Within the Zoldyck family, every single patriarch throughout history had inherited the absolute purest manifestation of their deadly lineage. The physical hallmark of that right to rule was unmistakable: silver hair.
Master Irumi was a prodigy, but he bore the dark hair of his mother. He was fundamentally disqualified from the line of succession, and therefore, he was not the master the butlers were ultimately destined to serve.
"What are you doing next, Irumi?" Illumi jogged down the corridor to catch up, falling into step beside him.
"I'm going to our room to meditate. Find your own amusement." Irumi cast a weary side-glance at his twin. At three years old, Illumi still possessed the tedious, playful instincts of an ordinary toddler.
"Oh," Illumi murmured vacantly. He kept walking in tandem with Irumi, entirely unbothered by the dismissal.
They reached the end of the hall. With a soft click, the heavy door swung open, and the twins stepped into their shared quarters. The room was split symmetrically by two beds, but the divide between them was stark. Illumi's mattress was littered with an assortment of colorful toys, while Irumi's was a portrait of asceticism—stripped bare of everything save for a neatly folded blanket and a single pillow.
Irumi slipped off his shoes, climbed onto his pristine bed, and settled into a lotus position. Resting his hands palm-up on his knees, he closed his eyes and sank into meditation. Across the room, Illumi crawled into his nest of toys. The heavy silence of the estate was periodically broken by the sharp clack of plastic parts knocking together or dropping to the floor.
Ever since he had learned to walk, Irumi had made this meditative trance a daily ritual. He understood the fundamental truths of this world. While a person's proficiency with Nen was largely dictated by innate talent and bloodline, a Nen user's mental fortitude and psychological state were equally paramount.
Through deep meditation, Irumi was already beginning to perceive the invisible currents of his environment. He could sense the faint, peculiar leakage emanating from his twin—a subtle hum that felt partway between raw emotion and a dormant, volatile energy. It was Aura.
Irumi already possessed the theoretical knowledge of how to awaken and cultivate Nen. A part of him hungered to tear open his Aura Nodes right now, but he knew better. To maximize his physical and mental foundation, twelve was the optimal age to officially initiate his aura training. Still, he was acutely curious about his own latent potential. In the realm of Nen, the speed of one's awakening was the ultimate litmus test for their underlying aptitude.
Naturally, initial speed didn't dictate a Hunter's absolute ceiling. The world was vast, populated by monsters like Chairman Netero, the Zodiacs, and elite masters capable of projecting massive spheres of En. Yet, among all the recorded prodigies in history, the entity with the most terrifying awakening speed was undoubtedly the Fourth Prince of the Kakin Empire, Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou. From the exact moment he was introduced to the concept of Nen to the successful manifestation of his aura, it took the prince less than ten seconds. No—perhaps it had been closer to five.
An ordinary student of the Shingen-Ryu dojo might take weeks, months, or even a grueling half-year to feel their life energy. Tserriednich was an anomaly, a horrifying, one-in-a-million monster. His latent talent might have even eclipsed that of Gon and Killua. Then again, direct comparisons were flawed. Wing had utilized an aggressive influx of aura to forcefully pry open Gon and Killua's Aura Nodes—a baptism of sorts—whereas Tserriednich's awakening was an organic, self-realized phenomenon.
Knock, knock. The crisp sound against the mahogany door interrupted Irumi's thoughts. Illumi paused his mindless game and stared blankly at the wood. "What?"
"Master Illumi, it is time for dinner," a butler's voice filtered through the heavy oak.
Irumi slowly opened his eyes and glanced toward the window. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, bathing the estate in twilight. I lost track of time again. He slid off the mattress and headed for the corridor, where the servant stood waiting in silence.
The two young boys walked shoulder-to-shoulder through the cavernous halls, the butler trailing like a shadow. They entered the grand dining room. Their father, Silva Zoldyck, sat imposing at the head of the massive table. Grandpa Zeno was seated quietly to the side.
"Irumi! Illumi! Hurry up and take your seats!" their mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, screeched, the electronic visor over her eyes flashing sharply.
Illumi obediently shuffled over to Kikyo's side and climbed into his chair. Irumi, his face an impassive mask, bypassed her entirely and walked deliberately toward his grandfather instead. With a soft grunt of exertion, he placed his small hands on the heavy dining chair, vaulted himself up, and settled into the seat directly beside Zeno.