Solo Cultivation in The Apocalypse

"So what is the serious thing you want to talk about?" she asked, looking at Hitori as he rested his chin on the bridge created by his thumbs.

He thought for a moment, although he had the topic in his mind, then said, "About the things, I found in Kamiya's room."

The corner of her lips dropped, and she lowered her gaze and tried to look away. But his stare was so damn hard to look away from. She found herself looking back at him.

"I sent you the sketch of his room along with his… plans? Diary. Yeah, with his diary. Can you give them to me? I want to read all of his plans and complete—"

"Oh, no, no, no," she protested, "do not even think about completing the plans HE had planned. If you want to reach the same goal Kamiya wanted to, then do something original."

He was taken aback, he narrowed his eyes. "Orignal? What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Orignal in the sense…" she paused to find the words, then continued, "find something your own to reach the goal. Do not follow something he created– because he can not complete what he created– so you need to create something of your own and execute it. I seriously would not allow you to—"

He nodded. "I got it," he said, "but I still need you to give me that novel, now novel is a good word, I want to steal from him if I can not copy him."

She opened her mouth again but then thought it would not be a problem. So she turned and pulled a brown envelope in which was wrapped the thick novel. She brought it to her lap and watched it for a minute.

Hitori stayed silent, he preferred that option, he watched her without asking her to hand the envelope, because he knew the time would eventually come, and it did. She leaned forward to hand him the envelope.

Hitori left his seat and grabbed the novel. He sat back and opened the envelope, then he looked inside and pulled the thick, four-hundred pages of murder plans. He checked the last page count– it read 418– perfect.
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He rested the pages back into the envelope and looked at Akemi. Resuming their chat, she said:

"When will you do it?" she asked. "How much time will you need to create something serious and original?"

"I have read a lot of books," he said.

"Books? Hell, that is not going to help you at all!" she said.

He saw her face turn red, maybe in anger, because she was not expecting Hitori to give such a naive answer.

"Seriously? Books? So now you will plan a murder by watching crime entertainment?"

He sighed. He never meant it that way. "I have read a lot of books, but I have not written any. But I plan on doing so."

She stopped and frowned. She could not understand what he wanted to convey. "So… you want to write a novel now?"

He sighed again and shook his head. "Here is the analogy for you, madam," he said, "I will read the hundred murder plans he has written, but I would not be able to create an original right away."

"You should have said that first, you know."

He ignored her murmur and continued, "I will need some time. Around three months."

"Three months?" She widened her eyes and leaned forward. "But what if he kills you before that? What if his three months of planning are over and now he is ready to execute?"
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He frowned. "Ah, you don't know him well, do you? That shithead has never planned an attack. He just arrives with his manpower and tries to destroy everything. So if he wants to, he can attack today, too."

He saw her shudder as soon as he said the last sentence. "L-Leave it. As Kamiya always said, 'He knows what he is doing.' so I know you will do something about that– not because I believe in you, but because I believed in my brother– not that I don't believe in you, though."

He was left confused and he did not bother to clear the confusion. "Believe me… I will take my revenge."

She stared at him wide-mouthed, then closed it and licked the side of her lips. "Tell me about the pictures, though. The pictures in his room– the ones who sent me but were not clear."

"It turns out that your brother was apparently spying on Onogi and Kuzu way before I got involved. My guess is he was doing it since they started bullying him."

"I knew it," she muttered. "Although he never told me about it, he always said, 'Don't worry, sister, my plan is under progress.' and that always gave me creeps."

"He did? What, did he ever try to be precise?"

"No, of course not. Would you tell your sister about the murder plans you have writing? No, right? He was no different. But one day… I just found out, as if god presented me with the answer."

Hitori leaned forward and placed his chin on his thumbs while forming a steeple with his hands. He looked at Akemi as she looked down, trying to remember the incident as freshly as possible.

"What was the answer, Akemi-san?" he asked, getting into the serious mode.

"One day, he visited me and was about to leave. But when he got off the bed, a photo fell from his pocket. I just caught a glimpse of it, and I saw that awful arm– the arm full of scars– then the photo fell on the floor."

"Then? Did you got to take a look or not?"

"This was the time when my condition was severe, so server that even when I needed to go to the washroom, it hurt like hell, even while I slept, it hurt like hell. That was the worst time of my medical condition, but that day, I was determined."

"No way…" Hitori muttered, thinking of the only possible outcome.