Chương 120: The City of Love
Canary watched, tense, her hands itching to draw her weapon and join the fray, but she restrained herself. This was Komugi's battle to fight.
Feitan leaned back, his eyes tracking Komugi with a faint hint of interest. "Not bad for a strategist," he remarked, his voice barely louder than the rustling leaves.
Phinx gave a rare nod of approval, silently acknowledging Komugi's tactics. The moonlight threw his features into sharp relief, casting him as an impassive spectator to the unfolding drama.
Komugi spotted her chance when the Cyclops stumbled, its own momentum becoming its downfall. She darted forward, quick as a flash, her hand striking the giant's knee. As it bellowed in surprise, she used its club as a platform, propelling herself upwards.
The giant's single eye widened as Komugi, tiny in comparison, landed a precise hit to its vulnerable spot. The Cyclops swayed and then, with a shimmering wave of energy, it transformed into a card that fluttered to the ground.
The clearing was quiet for a heartbeat, and then erupted with the growls and snarls of more Cyclopes, their ire drawn by the fall of their kin. Haruto's eyes gleamed with approval as Komugi faced the oncoming challenge, her fear forgotten, replaced by a rising tide of adrenaline.
She didn't need words or cheers; her confidence swelled with every breath, every heartbeat. As the next Cyclops charged, Komugi's thoughts were clear and focused, the forest around her fading away until there was nothing but the enemy and the fight.
The beast's club swung down in a deadly arc, but Komugi was already moving, sliding between its legs. She reached up, a hand aiming for the eye, her movements a dance of shadows in the silver light. The Cyclops roared, swinging blindly as it tried to catch the nimble thorn in its side.
Komugi didn't relent, using the terrain to her advantage. She darted around the trees, leading the Cyclops in a deadly chase. It was Gungi brought to life, with her as the mastermind, the pieces, and the board.
A Bubble Horse, startled by the commotion, galloped past, its red and white bubbles bursting in pops that masked Komugi's movements. She seized the moment, the cacophony providing cover as she sprinted towards the distracted Cyclops.
Another hit, another transformation. The cards piled at her feet, trophies of her cunning and agility.
The clearing was now alive with the forest's nocturnal creatures, drawn by the commotion. A Radio Rat skittered past, manipulating a fallen branch to create a diversion. The Melanin Lizard watched, its vast bulk a silent testament to the dangers lurking in the shadows. Komugi paid them no heed; her gaze was locked on her prey.
As the final Cyclops fell, the clearing fell silent once more. Komugi stood alone amidst the chaos she'd wrought, her chest heaving with exertion, her eyes burning with triumph.
After Komugi's victorious battle, the peculiar quintet meandered through Greed Island, which, to their seasoned senses, felt as perilous as a playground. For Haruto, the game served as a field study—the Nen at play was his textbook, and the island itself, a sort of open-air laboratory. It wasn't all work, though; he had a holiday to enjoy, a shared respite with Komugi and Canary, and even Feitan and Phinx seemed to appreciate the break from their usual escapades.
Days blended into weeks, and their journey across the island unfolded with a leisurely pace. Their adventures led them to Aiai, "The City of Love," a place seemingly lifted from the pages of a storybook, painted with all the tropes of romance.
As they stepped into Aiai, the bustle parted around them like waves around a steady ship. He cast a brief glance upwards at the heart-shaped balloon floating above, an unsubtle symbol of the city's theme.
Feitan, who'd known Haruto since he was but a swaddled mystery, watched the corners of the city with a protective gaze. He nudged Haruto and muttered, "This place reeks of sugar."
Phinx's laughter rumbled from his chest. "It's good camouflage for the sour-faced."
Canary walked close to Haruto, her hand brushing his with a familiarity that spoke volumes of their closeness, her smile blossoming like the rarest of flowers, reserved for moments out of sight from her usual stoicism.
Komugi, ever the ray of sunlight, clasped her hands with delight. "Oh, look! It's just like in the games!" Her eyes gleamed, reflecting the pinkish hue that seemed to tint everything in Aiai.
In the heart of Aiai, the city seemed to be having a little joke at Feitan and Phinx's expense. The pinkish glow that suffused the streets caught on their hardened faces, softening them despite their stern attempts to remain stoic.
"Careful, Feitan," Phinx ribbed, nudging him as a duo of giggling characters passed by, dressed in mascot costumes that were the epitome of affection—a pair of swans, beaks nearly touching. "You might just smile and shatter the illusion."
Feitan scowled, turning away, but not before a group of children, waving heart-shaped balloons, scampered up to him. The boldest, a girl with ribbons dancing in her hair, thrust a balloon towards him. "For you, Mr. Scary Face, to make you happy!"
His hand twitched, and to everyone's surprise, Feitan took the balloon, his expression unfathomable. Phinx chuckled, a sound of genuine amusement, but his laughter died as a child approached him too, offering a balloon with a sparkle in his eyes.
"For you, Mr. Laugh-a-lot," the child declared.
Taking the string, Phinx muttered something inaudible, cheeks tingeing with an uncharacteristic warmth.
They continued their walk, their notorious reputations unnoticed in this land of make-believe love. Shopkeepers hawked their wares, couples ambled by, lost in their worlds, and the air thrummed with the lighthearted essence of the city.
A street performer, clad in flowing garb that shimmered like the stars, caught sight of the group. She beamed, approaching Feitan with a confidence that spoke of someone used to the attention her beauty commanded. "Sir, a moment of your time?"
Feitan paused, the look in his eyes usually enough to send people scurrying. But the performer was undeterred, reaching out to place a crown woven from flowers atop his head. "Every king needs his crown, even one who hides his heart."
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