Kevin watched Light's face, seeing the resolve crystallize in the older man's eyes. Listening to Kevin's words, Light knew in his heart that the moment of decision and showdown had arrived.
In truth, ever since he received that prophecy poem and chose to help Kevin and the others, his mind had been made up. What solidified it further was personally witnessing Kevin's miraculous abilities—powers no less astonishing than his own daughter's gift. He recalled the crisis in Yorknew City, when several of his trusted subordinates were caught in a brutal conflict and left with grievous, crippling injuries. Modern medicine offered no hope for full recovery; they were destined for life-long disability.
Then, Kevin produced a small, unassuming potion. It defied all logic, healing the impossible with ease. As a gesture of gratitude, Kevin had even prepared a special strengthening and recovery potion for Light himself. The sensation that followed was unforgettable: a surge of vitality as if he'd been returned to his prime, the chronic pains and ailments of a long, hard life in the mafia shadows melting away. It was a miracle no ordinary medicine could ever achieve, a clear indication of a power akin to prophecy itself. From that moment, Light's path was unwavering.
"You took a tremendous risk to help us," Kevin pressed, his gaze intense. "To be honest, I struggle to understand why. Even after you learned how ruthless and powerful our pursuers were, you never wavered. That's even more perplexing." He leaned forward slightly. "Moreover, you seem… familiar with Pairo and Rosana. And today, it was as if you knew Kurapika would come—as if you were anticipating him. Why?"
Kevin needed the truth. Without it, he couldn't offer his full trust, and if he couldn't trust Light, the man had no place in the delicate framework of the plan now forming in Kevin's mind. Logically, with his own abilities, Light wasn't indispensable. Yet, the man's clear goodwill and aid couldn't be ignored. Everyone helps me, I help everyone—that principle mattered. Over these tense weeks, a fragile trust had been built, and among non-Nen users, trustworthy allies were painfully rare.
Light took a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, reverently, he drew a folded piece of paper from his inner suit pocket and handed it to Kevin.
"Hmm?" Kevin accepted it, puzzled by the care Light showed for what appeared to be a simple page torn from a notebook.
"Dad, you still kept it," Neon said softly beside him, a happy smile touching her lips.
Light returned the smile, gently stroking her hair. "This is a treasure you gave me."
Kevin refocused, unfolding the paper. It was a poem. As his eyes moved over the lines, his expression shifted—from confusion, to deep concentration, then to stunned realization as he sat bolt upright. A prophecy. The pieces snapped together with jarring clarity.
Hiss—so such a Nen ability truly exists in this world? he marveled inwardly. Bisky had once mentioned prophecy-type abilities, but she described them as costly, temporary, and heavily restricted. This… this was something else entirely. The poem was a precise guide, aligning perfectly with events that had already transpired. It explained everything: Light's foresight, his unwavering support, his seeming anticipation of Kurapika's arrival.
At that moment, Light offered him a second sheet of paper. Kevin looked up, met Light's steady gaze, and took it. It was last month's prophecy, but the contents showed subtle variations.
"So it can be changed," Kevin murmured, understanding dawning. The future wasn't a fixed track; it was a river with currents that could be nudged. The first poem had shown a possible flow, but the second proved the waters were still moving. Light hadn't just been following a script; he had been using the prophecy as a map, choosing to steer them toward a different, hopefully safer, shore.
Kevin's mind raced as he processed the implications. The second prophecy record was the key. So it's not just foresight, he realized, it's a tool for active change. You can see a thread of the future and choose to pull a different one. The sheer strategic power of such an ability was staggering. What kind of monstrous restriction, what unimaginable price, could possibly balance such a potent form of Nen? The logic of Nen demanded equilibrium. The more desired the outcome, the heavier the cost. This ability defied easy comprehension.
Maintaining a calm exterior required effort. He neatly folded the precious papers and returned them to Light, then steepled his fingers, sinking into a contemplative silence.
Light watched him, patient and still. A quiet pride swelled within him. Yes, he thought. Even in a world of wonders, my daughter's gift is extraordinary. This rarity was his ultimate bargaining chip, made secure by the fact it was inextricably tied to his own flesh and blood. They were a single unit. While such a treasure would normally paint a target on their backs, his time with Kevin—and the prophecy's own guidance—had convinced him Kevin was a man of principle. With Kevin, the chip's value could be safely leveraged, ensuring protection, respect, and a rightful reward. It was this very assurance that made him willing to abandon the treacherous, violent path of the mafia for this uncertain but promising alliance.
Across from him, Kevin's calm facade masked a churning interior. Light's revelation was a monumental gesture of trust, a clear signal he desired a deep, integrated partnership. The prophecy poem had guided Light to this crossroads, and he had chosen the path leading to Kevin. The responsibility of that choice was not lost on him. Kevin was acutely aware of his own growing capabilities and nascent ambitions. He could indeed envision leading an organization like the Nostra Family to new heights—not as a mere criminal syndicate, but as something more sophisticated, with greater influence. While his current strength was still developing, his vision was clear, and he saw the outdated flaws in the current "apex" of the underworld power structure.
His thoughts, once a storm of possibilities, began to settle into a clear pattern. A decision crystallized.
He met Light's expectant gaze. "I feel your sincerity," Kevin began, his voice measured. "To be honest, this level of trust exceeds my expectations." A brief, almost helpless smile touched his lips before his expression sobered into one of grave seriousness. "I do have objectives. Achieving them will require a professional foundation and a certain… reach. The specifics of our cooperation deserve a dedicated discussion later."
Light gave a firm, satisfied nod. "Of course. In the meantime," he offered, gesturing to Neon, "would you like her to provide a divination for you?"
The offer was profoundly tempting. A glimpse into the fog of the future? Any strategist would crave it. Kevin was silent for a long moment, wrestling with the allure. Finally, he shook his head, his expression turning cautionary. "This ability is beyond anything I've encountered. And that is precisely why it worries me. In my experience, the more powerful and elusive a Nen ability seems, the more likely it is bound to a severe, often hidden, restriction. The cost could be… existential. Until I understand its mechanics better, it would be safest for Neon not to perform any more predictions."
Light's composure shattered. "What?! Is that truly possible?!" he asked, alarm sharp in his voice.
"Don't panic," Kevin said, raising a calming hand. "From what you've said, you only discovered this ability last month, and it's been used only twice, correct? Just these two records?"
"Only twice. Exactly," Light confirmed hastily, his face pale.
"That's a relief," Kevin said, his tone softening slightly. "If there is a latent cost, the scale should still be manageable. But we must not test it further. We proceed with caution." He looked from Light to Neon, his gaze protective. "Her safety, and the mystery of her gift, must be our priority. We build our partnership on solid ground, not on unpredictable magic."