Chapter 103: The Sun and Moon
Shizuku's tragic past struck a chord of empathy within Kurapika.
Both were orphans of the same slaughter, both were walking the lonely path of vengeance, and both bore physical and mental scars from that night.
Neon, ever the emotional one, had initially worried if Shizuku would be difficult to get along with. She had even practiced her "aloof princess" face to prepare for a frosty reception.
But after hearing Shizuku's story, Neon was a mess of tears. She had latched onto Shizuku's arm and refused to let go. Shizuku tried to pull her arm back a few times, but finding it stuck, she eventually gave up and let Neon cling to her like a limpet.
Ronin drove in silence, focused on the road.
Shizuku's easy integration into the group was a relief. Before coming here, he had worried she might have deep ties to the rest of the Phantom Troupe. But it seemed that before the Spence incident, a girl with parents and a home—even in Meteor City—didn't run in the same circles as outlaws like Chrollo.
Maybe the memory loss is a blessing, Ronin mused.
Without those memories, she didn't have to carry the crushing weight of her parents' gruesome end every second of the day. He wondered if her forgetfulness was a subconscious defense mechanism—a way for her mind to survive the unsurvivable.
The SUV rolled out of the forest and back into the dilapidated residential districts, where trash was the only décor.
While Ronin's team cleared Spence's estate, the remaining Elders of Meteor City convened a remote emergency council.
The agenda was singular: How to eliminate the intruder who dared to desecrate their city.
"Contact Chrollo Lucilfer," one Elder suggested, his voice amplified by a speaker. "Spence's seat is vacant now. Offer it to the Spider as a reward for cleaning up this outsider."
A heated debate erupted, but eventually, the suggestion silenced the room.
Ronin's power was undeniable. None of the Elders wanted to waste their own elite guards on a monster they didn't fully understand. The Phantom Troupe—outsiders in spirit but sons of the city by blood—were the perfect executioners.
"Are we really going to let him run wild until the Spiders arrive? First Spence, then who? One of us?"
The questioning voice was old and raspy. The council fell into a brief, uncomfortable silence. No one volunteered to stand in the intruder's way.
"Hmph."
The old man was about to spit another insult when he was interrupted.
"Wait. Where is Elder Theodore?"
The question caused a ripple of unease. A specific image formed in everyone's mind: a fanatic, even by Meteor City standards.
Theodore.
He was one of the most dogmatic and traditionalist Elders. His philosophy was simple: if an outsider attacks a citizen of Meteor City, he will turn his own people into human bombs to express his "displeasure." To him, humans were tools for messaging—and his messages usually left the recipient in pieces.
"He is acting like a true Elder of the Junkyard should," the old man noted with a hint of nostalgia. "I'm getting old. If Theodore fails, I hope we can finally show some unity."
"The enemy is at the gates. Killing him is the only thing that matters. I'll be waiting at my villa. If he survives Theodore, he will certainly come for me."
The Elders understood the subtext. Ryan was admitting his involvement in the Spence affair. He was the one who had turned Shizuku's father and triggered the collapse of Spence's house.
But in Meteor City, internal treachery was secondary to external invasion.
"Fine. I'll send my men to reinforce your position," another Don agreed. Others followed suit.
Ryan's lips curled into a smirk. Let the ants come. They aren't ready for what I have waiting.
On a narrow street lined with crumbling concrete, Ronin's car was suddenly blocked.
The interceptors weren't soldiers. They were men and women draped in rags, barefoot, their faces hidden behind crude masks. They stood in the middle of the road, silent and motionless.
They didn't even have guns.
Ronin didn't stop. He accelerated, intending to force them aside. But as the car bore down on them, one of the figures lunged forward, slamming into the hood.
The moment of impact wasn't a thud. It was a detonation.
KABOOM!
The car screeched to a halt. The reinforced windshield shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. Even with Spence's custom armor plating, the concussive force of the blast was staggering.
Ronin stepped out of the smoking vehicle. His gaze locked onto the leader of the group.
The man was draped in a steady Ten. Ronin searched his mind—this man wasn't in the memories he had extracted from Ryan's scout. This wasn't Ryan.
But the man's appearance triggered a memory from the manga.
The fight between Hisoka and Chrollo. The explanation of a stolen ability.
The Sun and Moon.
The Elder standing before him, cloaked in a heavy robe and a mask, was Theodore.
"Meteor City is not a playground for outsiders," Theodore's voice was a dry rasp. "Therefore... please die."
As he spoke, shadows moved on the rooftops lining the street.
Dozens of figures, dressed identically to Theodore, leaped from the ledges. They looked like clones, falling toward the car with terrifying synchronization.
Mid-fall, every single one of them performed the same action: They pressed their palms together.
The Sun and Moon (Pairs of Destroyers).
A Specialist ability that marks the target with a plus (Sun) and a minus (Moon). When the marks touch, they trigger an explosion. By marking their own hands, these zealots had turned themselves into high-yield suicide bombs.
Ronin's eyes flared into the Mangekyō Sharingan.
The crimson skeletal armor of the Susanoo manifested around him instantly. The giant skeletal hand swept upward like a thunderbolt, swatting the falling zealots out of the air like bothersome flies.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions rocked the street as the "bombs" detonated against the Susanoo's palms.
But the onslaught didn't stop. From every alley and side street, hundreds more rag-clad fanatics poured out, charging Ronin's position with a mindless, suicidal fervor!
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