Hunter x Hunter: Sun Breathing Technique Chapter 36: Self-Hypnosis Training Method × Illumi’s Bottom

Silva tossed out, "Nice earrings," then left the corridor and went straight up to the second floor.

An assassin's perception is razor-sharp; a top assassin reads everything in his surroundings at a glance. Silva is like that—so is Grandpa Zeno. If he cares to notice, nothing within three hundred ters escapes his senses.

After all, his [En] radius is well beyond three hundred ters.

So Roy had never deluded himself into hiding the earrings from Silva. He simply wore them openly and didn't take them off.

"Young master, breakfast."

At four-thirty a.m., Wutong arrived with the cart.

"The kitchen followed your instructions and redid the minced pork with eggplant. We hope you'll be satisfied this ti."

Lesson learned, the kitchen had adjusted.

"Just take it straight to Great-Grandpa."

The older you get, the less you should have to trek to a junior's room. Besides, in both his lives Roy had never been one for stir-fries at dawn, so he returned to the table and bit into a bacon sandwich.

Wutong left and soon returned, carrying an empty plate.

"The great elder says it's better than last ti, but still not on your level."

Thanks for the flattery, old sir… Roy knew it was just the "first-ti effect" at work. So many firsts in life—first exams, first love, first marriage, first loss—are the ones that stick.

He ate his sandwich without comnt, listened to Wutong outline the day's training, and kept turning over one problem in his head—how on earth to beco a tree.

"Blend into nature": that much he understood about why Urokodaki Sakonji had told him to hug trees. In fact, it echoed the way you cultivate [Zetsu].

"About the test the master proposed for you… after I got back I compiled so notes from when I trained [Zetsu]," Wutong said, handing over a prepared notebook. "I hope it helps."

Roy sipped milk, leafed through it, and asked, "How long did it take you to learn [Zetsu]?"

"A year and two months." Wutong pushed up his gold-rimd glasses. "Zipo called untalented. I spent three months on [Ten] and nine on [Ren]. As for higher-level applications like [En], [Ken], [Ko], [Ryu]… I've only managed [Shu] so far."

[Shu]—winding aura around an object. In Wutong's case, his "weapon" was—coins.

"Don't sell yourself short."

Nen isn't so commonplace trope. Across the entire Hunter world, even with the Association's backing, there are only six or seven hundred recognized Nen users. Even soone as exalted as Kakin's Fourth Prince, Tserriednich, knew nothing about Nen before eting Theta.

So Wutong absolutely had talent—only it had been "averaged out" by the Zoldyck monsters' yardstick.

Roy skimd the notes and, in the end, they boiled down to two words—push through.

No tricks, just ti on task. The lone bright spot was that during "ditation" he occasionally felt on the verge of an "insight"—though Roy strongly suspected it was simply that half-asleep, drifting sensation when you're nodding off.

'Right, I nearly forgot the booklet Great-Grandpa gave .'

He washed down the last bite of sandwich with milk, pulled open a drawer, and took out Jed's notebook.

He searched it carefully—only to find it was even more abstract.

On training [Zetsu], the whole thing repeated a single phrase—"self-hypnosis."

By "hypnotizing" yourself to deepen "imagination," you quickly slip into a "natural" state—naturally pooling aura and blending into nature.

So that's a genius's world?

Roy could practically hear Jed's mindset as he wrote:

'Zetsu? Isn't that sothing you pick up with your hands tied?'

Hard even to muster jealousy…

Roy sat a mont in silence, then slid the notebook back.

"Clang~" Five a.m.

Ti to head to the training hall.

This ti, though, he didn't bring Yukizō.

He was the obedient type: since Urokodaki had explicitly told him not to touch a sword, he would just hug trees.

"Young master, you forgot Yukizō," Wutong reminded him kindly while clearing the table.

Roy waved it off, left the room, and headed for the hall.

One million volts was still on today's schedule. With his Constitution up, he wanted to see how long he could endure.

"One minute, thirty-five seconds…" That was Illumi's mark.

He had to beat big brother at everything—apparently that sheer stubbornness was the only thing keeping him upright.

When Roy pushed open the door and saw that ridiculous afro that didn't match his pale face at all, Illumi happened to be seizing under the shock. He forced his head up to glare at Roy—and then toppled like a felled log.

Roy understood the ssage…

'This ti I'm definitely waking up before you…'

He peeled off his vest.

"Forgive , young master." Luke bowed.

No need to swap gear after Illumi—he just planted the baton squarely on Roy's chest.

"Zzzzt—" Arcs of electricity danced; through his skin you could practically see the current crawling inside him.

It was a little better than last ti. At least Roy didn't grunt, and he forced his body not to jerk and thrash.

"Huh?" Luke blinked.

Instinct said he'd grabbed the wrong baton. He looked down—big "100" on the casing. So…

It wasn't his mistake—it was…

Young Master Roy was enduring longer than before!

But—this fast? In just one day?

Not daring to believe it, Luke tried to dissuade him: "Don't force it, young master. The master said two minutes is a pass."

Two minutes?

Roy refused to be a quick finisher.

Jaw clenched, he said evenly, "Keep going."

One minute passed. One-thirty. Finally, when Luke's stopwatch hit 2:35, Roy exhaled a puff of black smoke and Luke lunged forward to catch him.

…

Sunlight punched through the clouds and heated the earth, pushing sweat to the skin.

The pit in the garden was dug yesterday. Illumi woke up today—from the heat.

He cracked open those empty dead-fish eyes to see Roy spading dirt over him, scoop by scoop. The boy, unwilling to concede, shut his eyes again and had Luke bring him more water.

'So I woke later—no matter. I'll drink one sip more than you.'

Young Master Illumi's "bottom line" had always been flexible… Roy noted he was awake but didn't stop, still swinging the shovel as he slowly reclaid control of his body.

Only when the numbness fully drained from his limbs

did he plant the shovel in the ground, turn his back, step to a nearby cypress,

and spread his arms to hug it.

Illumi: "?"