The midday sun shone fiercely, baking the earth in the Takashi family backyard. Ten-year-old Akira, who thought himself a master of hiding, was once again crouched behind a stack of dusty, old training dummies. From his little spot, he watched his father, Masaru, with a focus that felt too serious for his age.
Masaru moved with a grace that seemed almost magical, his body flowing through motions that looked less like fighting practice and more like an ancient dance. Akira frowned, a small line forming on his forehead. Why do Daddy do this? It seemed like a strange, almost sacred ritual, one Masaru performed with a seriousness that always caught Akira's interest. He crouched lower behind the dummies, feeling a familiar flutter of worry in his chest. If his father caught him spying again, he knew there would be trouble.But today felt different. Akira, with his sharp eyes, noticed something in Masaru's movements-a slight strain. After each quick and almost dazzling movement, his father would pause, his chest rising and falling rapidly, a thin layer of sweat shimmering on his forehead. It felt more than just tiredness; it was as if the air around him had been taken away, leaving him gasping. What was it about these 'dances' that took so much from him?Masaru continued, each form showing a lost art, a strong effort to bring back something that had been abandoned. A deep sadness, old and heavy, seemed to surround him, a shadow beneath his calm face.
Then Masaru stopped, his gaze distant, as if he was looking at something only he could see. "This breathing..." he murmured, his voice low and rough, "it needs a fierce soul. A spirit... that was once almost within our reach." A deep, sad sigh escaped him, filled with a sorrow that seemed too heavy for the quiet afternoon. He shook his head, trying to clear a memory clinging to him, and began to practice once more, each movement now filled with a new, almost urgent intensity.
Suddenly, a high-pitched voice broke the silence. "Aki... Ra... B-brig brother!" Akira's heart jumped. He recognized that voice. It was little Ren, his five-year-old brother, the youngest of the Takashi family. Ren, still unsteady on his feet, walked wobbly into the garden, a bright, innocent smile lighting up his face. His sparkling eyes were fixed on Masaru, filled with pure love as he raised his chubby arms. "dad!" he called out, his sweet voice filled with little pauses, showing how he was still learning to speak.Akira felt a rush of panic and immediately dropped low, quickly moving away from the dummies. He slipped like a shadow, quiet and fast, desperate to avoid being seen. He darted through the back door, a sigh of relief escaping him as he vanished into the cool, dark interior of the house.
Masaru, unaware of Akira's escape, knelt down to hug his youngest son. But as he held Ren close, a new wave of sadness washed over his face. "Let it go, now, Masaru," he whispered, his voice soft and almost lost, a command meant for himself. Let go of what? That question lingered in the air, unanswered, a silent burden that only he seemed to carry.
"where's akira?" escaped from masaru's mouth, looking around, searching for akira's presence.
shivers ran down akira's spine as he heard it, irritated "what do i do" Akira said to himself, "i'm sure i told him that i'll be back in a minute..!" akira thought to himself before hearing his name one again, shivers runs down his spine again.
"Akira??" masaru calling out loud for his son.
No Response
After receiving no response masaru while holding little ren, puts his wooden sword a side and starts to walk towards the house door while swiping sweat away.
Just as Masaru reached the threshold, the door swung open. Akira popped out, a wide, innocent grin plastered across his face. "Yes, Daddy?" he chirped, as if he hadn't been hiding moments before.
masaru speaks in a soft yet firm tone "where did you go? didn't i told you to play with ren?" masaru asks his son "you know that he mustn't come in the backyard, what if i wasn't here?" he asks looking at akira
Akira blinked, feigning a look of utter confusion. "Oh, so he was with you?" He paused, then continued, his voice laced with an exaggerated innocence. "I just went to the toilet. I told him to stay there. When I came back, he wasn't there!"
Masaru studied him for a long moment, a skeptical glint in his eyes. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Hmm... okay." He seemed to accept the flimsy excuse, or perhaps he simply chose to. "Come inside," he said, turning and walking into the house, Ren still cradling his father, his father holding him securely in his arm.
Later, After Masaru Walks inside the house, He Swips Away His Sweat and holding Ren securely in his arms.
Ren, with a wide smile, looking around the house after being lifted up by his father.
Akira, Walks inside and closes the door, his chest lowers in relaxation "Huh..." He sighed, sigh of relief, He wipes away the sweat from forehead with the back of his hand, "phew.. At least I make reasonable excuse, how long would I be able to keep it" He walks inside and head towards his room.
Later, on the dinner.
Akira's mother was arranging the last bowl with rice, and comes to the dining table, she places it in front of herself. She looks at Small, Cheerful Kid, Ren, He was sitting on the chair just next to her, she takes a spoonful of rice and bring it closer to the mouth of cute Ren and says "Say, Ahh" Ren does it and she gently places the spoon in his mouth and smiles proudly "that's my boy".
Masaru eating his food, but something seems to distract him; something he can't resist to. He looks at Akira, Sometimes he looks as if gazing past Akira, as if searching for a shadow, taller, perhaps, who meant for the legacy.
Akira, his perceptive sharp senses, Sense it, and he reacts to it, he was eating his food and he slowly raises his head midst eating and looks at his father, who was actually staring at him.. But, it wasn't meant for him, it was as if his father wasn't directly gazing at him but at a invisible figure through Akira, Akira remembers every single time and detail whenever his father does this.
Masaru lost in his world, thinking about the legacy, a wave of sadness wash over him, kept staring at his son, he murmurs "this breathing was meant for a soul" A quiet murmur as if meant only for him "a soul who's gone from very long.. Who's not here to claim his birthright" He says it and after a few minutes he realizes Akira eye contact with him and instantly brings himself back to eating.
Akira's brain, keeps telling him, his father is sad but from what? And why? The question lingering in his mind unanswered.. Was it related to the ancient dance that he performs so desperately?
Akira's mother notices it, taking back the spoon from Ren's little mouth gently and lifts up Ren to go and wash his mouth.
Masaru Looks at her as she stood up suddenly, it was deliberate. As masaru looks at her she gestures at him why's he staring at Akira? He already was so perceptive and sharp minded for his age.
She didn't wanted her son to get pressured for anything.
Masaru continues. He finishes his food as he looked at Akira who was taking his plates and gave it to her mother and talking to her.
"It's the righttime.." Masaru says to himself.
Akira talking to her mother "mommy is there anything else-" Akira was cut short by his father.
"Akira!" Masaru calls for him gently yet in a firm voice, Akira looks at him, Akira's rapid thinking starts "Is he about to ask me about the afternoon training?!?" "Or perhaps, he's gonna ask me that I was there again?" Akira walks to his father, With a Confused expression.
"Yes, daddy?" Akira said with the innocent voice, drama king.
Masaru looks at his son.. After some minutes of observing his innocent kid, he continues "son.. From tomorrow, you'll be joining me in my training" Masaru says with a firm and soft voice.