Gyou, following just behind Ramochis as the Zoanoid led him to where Murakami’s son was waiting, came into sight of the stand of trees that Ramochis recognized as being very close to where the boy’s tent was hidden. Gyou knew that he would have to move fast if he wanted to get to the boy before Murakami returned to take him, and so he gave a quick telepathic order to the Zoanoids around him to speed up.

Gyou quickened his own pace, and soon they all stood just seven feet from the tent where the boy was. Gyou wasn’t entirely sure just how alert this Kenji Murakami was to his surroundings, but it would not be remiss to show some caution in his approach. With that in mind, Gyou ordered all his Zoanoids to conceal themselves in the forest and wait for further instructions.

Approaching the tent alone, Gyou waited until he passed through the bushes that acted as further visual obstructions to anyone that would be passing through this area. He had to give Murakami credit for one thing, however grudgingly: the man was extremely thorough. The bushes wouldn’t have been much of a hindrance to anyone who was actually looking for the tent, as Gyou himself was now proving, but they still kept it out of the line-of-sight of any casual hikers.

Crouching down in front of the tent, as Murakami himself had done at first, Gyou called to the boy inside.

"Kenji? Your father sent me to come get you," he lied. "Are you awake?"

The front flap of the tent was unzipped from the inside, and Gyou found himself face to face with Murakami’s son. The boy looked healthy, well cared-for, and a little wary.

"You know my dad?"

"Oh yes," Gyou said, nodding. "I know your father very well." The bastard.

"I thought he was going to come and get me himself," the boy said, looking confused and a bit disappointed.

"That’s what he said?" Gyou asked, wanting to make it seem like he didn’t already know all about Murakami’s conversation with his son.

"Yeah. Didn’t he tell you that?"

"No, he didn’t say anything about that." It was a half-truth at best, since Murakami wouldn’t be likely to say anything to Gyou that didn’t involve some kind of pitiful threat.

"You’re not a… a Zoanoid, are you?"

"Me? A Zoanoid? Of course not," said Gyou the Zoalord.

"Oh, that’s good," the boy looked relieved. "For a second there, I was worried."

"Well now," Gyou said, turning away slightly and smiling in the manner of a hyena just before it sank its teeth into a particularly tasty piece of meat. "There’s really no need for you to be so afraid of me. After all, I’m a good friend of your father."

Now that was a blatant fabrication, but either the boy was deliberately ignoring the undertones of Gyou’s words, or he really was naïve enough to not have caught them at all. Given how young and sheltered the Murakami boy was, Gyou was more willing to believe the latter over the former.

"Now that we’ve gotten acquainted, Kenji, we really should go and find your father," as he said this, Gyou stood up.

"Wow, you’re really tall," the boy said, craning his neck just to be able to look up at Gyou. "I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep up with you. Hey I just realized, I forgot to ask you your name."

"My name is Reholt Gyou. And don’t worry about keeping up with me," so saying, Gyou swept the young Murakami up into his long, strong arms.

Startled at first, Kenji soon relaxed into Gyouoh’s hold. This man was friends with his dad, and besides, Gyouoh felt nice and warm when Kenji curled up against him "Mr. Gyouoh, sir? When are we going to meet up with my dad?"

"Soon," Gyou lied.

A quick tap to the back of the boy’s head, directly on one of his pressure points, and the Murakami boy had fallen fast asleep. Now there was just the matter of how to use this boy against his father.

For a moment, Gyou’s large hand closed around the boy’s neck. It would be so very easy to snap it; to leave the boy’s corpse for Murakami to find. But then Gyou had a very interesting idea indeed. If using the Fukamachi boy’s father against him had produced such interesting psychological results, as Dr. Balkus had reported, then it would stand to reason that using Murakami’s son would produce the same kind of results.

But the boy was young enough that he might not be able to survive the processing. Fah, age can be changed just as easily as his physical and genetic makeup, Gyou thought derisively. There only remained the matter of what form the boy would be processed into. Making him a Zoanoid would be pointless, and more than likely counterproductive.

Since Gyou had also seen the footage of Murakami’s battle with the Enzyme IIs in the forest by this time, he now know that Murakami was a Proto-Zoalord. As he called his Zoanoids back to him and began walking, Gyou though back to what he and Dr. Balkus had learned. Dr. Balkus, when he had seen the battle-form that Murakami possessed, had been at first convinced that Masaki Murakami was a real Zoalord.

But, after some time and consideration, it had been decided that no true Zoalord would ever be subject to the weaknesses that Murakami had displayed. The way he had collapsed after the battle had clinched it in Gyou’s mind. After all, battling a team of merely four Zoanoids – even those classified as Guyver-killers – would not have taken that much of a toll on him or Balkus, to say nothing of Alkanphel.

As Gyou prepared himself to teleport back into Relics Point, the Zoalord had another interesting thought. While it would be entertaining to have Murakami come to the tent and search for his son, finding nothing, Gyou decided that it would be far more entertaining to see how he reacted if he knew that his precious son was gone.

With his decision made, Gyou ordered his Zoanoids to destroy the tent Murakami had set up, as well as anything and everything inside it. When he teleported back into Relics Point, Gyou took one last look through the eyes of the Zoanoids that he had called. What he saw pleased him: the tent’s heavy canvas had been ripped to pieces, the books that had been inside were shredded and tossed out onto the ground for the worms and other forest insects to feed on.

Turning his attention back to the young boy who was sleeping peacefully in his arms, Gyou smirked. He knew now just what use that he could put the boy to. A Proto-Zoalord could never hope to stand up against a real Zoalord, and Murakami would never be able to fight against his own son. After that particular little revelation, Gyou teleported down to the deepest levels of Mt. Minakami.

This was where the new breeds of Zoanoids were developed, and a few of the scientists present were more loyal to him than to that old fool Balkus. One of his loyal scientists was approaching now.

"Greetings, Commander Gyou. What brings you all the way down here?"

"I have an assignment for you. Dr. Henderson, isn’t it?" Gyou queried.

"Halverson, sir," Dr. Halverson corrected. "What would you like me to do for you?"

"This boy," Gyou said, handing the Murakami boy over to the doctor. "I want him processed as quickly and quietly as you can manage."

Halverson seemed uncertain. "I’m sure that I can manage something, Commander. But with his currant state of physical development, I doubt that he would survive for very long as a Zoanoid."

"Not a Zoanoid," Gyou said, smiling in a manner that never failed to unnerve the doctor. "A Zoalord."

"Like you, sir?" Halverson asked, realizing even as he did that that was a very stupid question.

"Of course."