Kisho leaned against the sofa, sitting on the floor.
Chrollo set him down on the floor so he could lean against the sofa, then gracefully sat down on the sofa himself.
"Nobunaga Hazama." He pointed at the black-haired man with braided hair and a sword.
"Feitan Portor." He pointed at the short figure who had been peeking at him outside the door earlier—openly and shamelessly—his face half-covered.
"Machi Komacine." He pointed at the ponytailed girl.
"Phinks Magcub." He pointed at the man with no eyebrows and short blond hair.
"Shalnark." He pointed at the rather handsome blond boy.
"Franklin Bordeau." He pointed at the terrifyingly tall man with an equally terrifying face, covered in scars, with long earlobes.
"Pakunoda." He pointed at the loose-haired girl who had brought him food last night.
"Bonolenov." He pointed at the person wrapped head to toe in bandages like a mummy.
"Uvogin." He pointed at the big man with an afro.
"Kortopi." He pointed at the person with very long hair covering their entire face, making their gender impossible to tell.
The one introducing them was Chrollo, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed. Using an ability from his book that turned his eyes purple, he made Kisho understand what he was saying—though the names were strange and hard to pronounce.
Finally, he introduced the person before them in their own language:
"Kisho."
When read in their language, the name was actually not that awkward.
"All of you used his ability this morning. If there are no objections, I'll put him on the candidate list."
He didn't avoid speaking in front of Kisho, so Kisho could understand. But what did "candidate list" mean? Didn't these kinds of joining-a-group things ever consider the wishes of the person involved? —Could this be some kind of cult?
Machi glanced at Kisho and said bluntly:
"He looks unwilling."
Then she added in confusion:
"And isn't there a vacant position?"
Chrollo lowered his head, looking at Kisho, who wore a blank, confused expression tinged with faint dissatisfaction.
"His wishes aren't important."
He smiled again.
"If he were made a full member directly, he wouldn't be qualified."
Kisho understood. He clenched his teeth and braced himself.
So even cults don't accept illiterates these days?
"If he's just a candidate," Uvogin said enthusiastically, "I'm fine with it."
Nobunaga gave a light laugh.
"No objections."
Phinks grinned.
"No objections."
Shalnark smiled.
"As expected, Enhancement types really care about the boosts brought by that kind of ability."
Machi sneered.
"As expected, Enhancement-type idiots."
The three shouted angrily:
"What did you say—?! Looking for a fight?!"
"Stolen nen can't be trained again," Chrollo said slowly, ignoring them. "But if practice can continue, it might bring even more improvement."
Every word was understandable. Put together, none of it was.
Chrollo's words made the three known as "Enhancement types" light up. If going from 100 to 105 was a slight improvement, then going from 199 to 200—breaking through the limit after reaching the extreme—was incredibly precious.
It wasn't that the improvement itself mattered so much, but that if one had insight into 200, then at least there would be a traceable path toward reaching it. After training close to one's limit, improving even a tiny bit became unimaginably difficult, sometimes with no sense of direction at all.
Shalnark said:
"Even if you don't care about the increase in strength and speed, improvements in stamina and visible aura are still useful for troupe activities."
Feitan held the opposite opinion:
"Even as a candidate, he's too weak. Dead weight."
"He can be taught slowly," Chrollo said.
Inferring what Feitan had said from that reply, Kisho glared at Feitan, gritted his teeth, and braced himself.
"Heh, he dares to glare at me," Feitan's eyes suddenly sharpened, killing intent bursting forth.
That killing intent was blocked by invisible nen, and Feitan clicked his tongue. Seeing that the little burden was completely unaware of what had just happened—having no idea he'd nearly died under killing intent and aura pressure—Feitan clicked his tongue again.
"I don't really object," Pakunoda frowned. "But… during troupe activities, someone would need to be assigned to protect him, right? That would affect combat efficiency."
Chrollo withdrew his nen.
"Hmm—but if there are no special requirements, groups can be formed voluntarily."
"Kisho, right? From now on, I've got your back!" Uvogin said, patting his chest.
Shalnark laughed.
"You can't communicate; he can't understand what you're saying. You might as well tell the boss."
Chrollo smiled as well, noncommittal, then looked at the remaining people.
Kortopi spoke softly.
"No objections."
Franklin shook his head.
"No objections."
Bonolenov shook his head as well.
"Since there are no objections, then…" Chrollo stood up and lifted Kisho by the collar like grabbing a rabbit by the ears. "Number Four will be notified another time. You're dismissed."
Kisho:
"..."
Hey, so you really aren't going to consider the opinion of the person involved at all?
The little boy was carried back to the room and set down on the floor covered with cardboard.
Chrollo crouched in front of him and met his gaze. Then he flipped his hand, and Bandit's Secret appeared. He began flipping through the book, turned to the page with Kisho's portrait, glanced at him, and tore that page out.
Kisho watched him blankly, as if watching a play, then felt something very strange happening within him—like a missing part of his body—or his heart—had suddenly returned.
Chrollo flipped a few more pages.
Purple light.
Chrollo said:
"No acting alone. Report to me before doing anything. If you dare to run, I'll take your ability, break your legs and arms, and lock you in a box."
Kisho:
"…?"
Borrow yesterday, repay today—this was harsher than any loan app. And what kind of group had such strict rules? Then… do you have to report going to the bathroom or drinking water? No, why am I even linking drinking water and using the bathroom together? And that threat—actually, was it really a threat?
Kisho met the gaze of the black-haired, black-eyed young man.
Chrollo gave a soft smile and walked back toward his sofa.
Kisho sat quietly on the floor, eyes wide open.
He… seemed to have truly arrived in a place even more terrifying than that box.
In Chrollo's eyes, he saw—like a hallucination—a bottomless abyss.
...
"You know what Nen is?"
Kisho, who looked like he was resting with his eyes closed but was actually slowly trying to control and move his legs, heard Chrollo's voice and raised his head to look at him.
Chrollo was sitting on the sofa reading a book and did not look back at him.
Kisho shook his head, indicating he had never heard of it.
Chrollo seemed to see him shaking his head and smiled, but his voice grew a degree colder:
"Since you don't know Nen, I'm curious how your ability came into being. Can you explain it?"
Kisho: "...I don't know."
Chrollo chuckled softly. He did not judge Kisho's answer, but simply closed the book in his hands.
Then Kisho froze.
The sunlight outside the window was bright, yet he still felt as if he had been thrown into an icy abyss, or pressed into the pitch-black, suffocating depths of the sea—or perhaps both at once.
Cold surged along his spine straight to his brain and completely seized control of his body. His soul screamed hysterically to run, but his body felt frozen stiff, unable to breathe, unable to move...
His heart beat both extremely fast and extremely slow. In his ears was a shrill ringing, yet in the blink of an eye, all he could hear was the dead silence of a lifeless sea.
He didn't know how long it passed—long enough that he thought he was already dead.
When he realized he wasn't dead, he felt wet liquid flowing from his nose and ears. In a daze, he raised his hand and touched a palmful of blood.
He looked at his hand, then blankly at Chrollo, unable to understand what kind of ability that had been, and even less able to understand why Chrollo had suddenly used such a terrifying power on him for no reason.
After the confusion slowly faded, he dully felt fear.
He slowly lowered his head, trembling almost imperceptibly.
So that was what it felt like to take the final step at the gates of hell.
Chrollo withdrew his Nen and stared at the boy sitting on the floor.
If an ordinary person underwent the baptism of Nen pressure, there was a certain chance they would open all the aura nodes in their body and learn Nen—but a greater chance that they would be unable to control the dissipation of aura and die.
If it was someone who had already learned Nen, when subjected to overly strong Nen pressure, they would instinctively use their own Nen to resist.
But in both cases, the person bearing the Nen pressure would have the aura in their body burst outward.
Yet the boy remained in a state of "Zetsu" the entire time—either he had unconsciously trained Zetsu to the extreme, suppressing instinctive reactions even under Nen pressure, or his "Nen" was under some kind of restriction, forcing him to remain passively in a state of Zetsu.
More regrettably, even when the gray-blue-eyed brat was practically dying, that silver-blue eye still didn't come out.
Chrollo spoke: "Close your eyes."
Kisho was silent for a short while, then did as told.
Chrollo: "Think about using your ability, but don't actually use it. Feel the aura gathering in your hand."
Kisho followed his instructions, spreading his hand and making the motion of preparing to take a book. As his thoughts moved, he felt the book gathering in his palm, maintained in the form before becoming a book—that was the "aura" flowing out from his body. It clearly had no physical form, yet… it felt very strange. He seemed able to control it freely.
Chrollo saw a faint blue mass of aura appear in the boy's palm and said softly: "Do you feel what's in your hand? This is your 'Nen'."
Normally, learning Nen starts with "Ten," passes through "Zetsu," then to "Ren," and finally to "Hatsu." But this brat already possessed Nen that could be emitted outward, so doing it in reverse was relatively easier for him.
"Now disperse the Nen in your hand and do it again. This time, remember where in your body the 'Nen' emerges from."
Kisho dispersed the mass of aura in his hand.
He focused on every detail of his body that might change or move when he mentally summoned his ability.
It was a strange feeling, yet also like a part of his body. The metaphor might not be appropriate, but it was as natural as breathing air into the lungs—most people don't notice the air entering their body when they breathe, but with just a bit of attention, they can feel it.
However, unlike breathing, these countless threads of aura emerged from within his body.
"Gather the 'Nen' around your body and fix it there. Don't let it leave your body, and don't let it run wild."
Chrollo lowered his head and flipped through the book.
This was his first time flipping through a book that taught how to practice Nen in a proper, orthodox way—a "textbook" with no publication number, of unknown origin, time, or place.
He didn't need to read such useless things. He and the others all had their own methods of learning and improving Nen.
His own method was fast and efficient, and the subsequent growth rate of Nen was impressive. The only drawback was that using it on this kid might turn the kid into a dead kid.
Although the teacher was learning as he taught, fortunately, the student being taught was fairly capable. It might also be because the boy himself could already perform "Hatsu" and was now training in reverse—like walking from a single endpoint toward multiple exits, quickly finding where the maze entrance was, much easier than trying to go from the starting point to the end.
Under the purple light, in Chrollo's pupils, a layer of blue aura about 2 millimeters thick appeared around Kisho's body—that was the kid's "Ten."
If the kid's age was ten, then when Chrollo himself was ten, his "Ten" could already reach five centimeters.
Chrollo felt a bit disdainful.
Kisho felt as if a thin film had wrapped around his entire body. The external temperature wasn't easy to feel—though that wasn't quite accurate. Rather, he could feel the temperature, but there wasn't much sensation of heat or cold.
Moreover, the feeling of wind brushing past him, of small insects crawling against his body, and even the sensation of blood flowing past certain points all became clearer.
"Your current state is called 'Ten'." Chrollo stood up and said, "Maintain this state until I come back."