Year X770 —
Location: Rosemary Village & Nearby Trade Road
Age: Ren (5) | Erza (5)
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The first thing Ren learned about money was that it was heavy.
Not in weight—but in responsibility.
He sat cross-legged on the floor of his hut, small hands sorting copper coins into neat little stacks. The clink-clink sound felt oddly satisfying.
"…We have more than yesterday," Erza said, kneeling across from him.
Ren beamed. "Because we worked more!"
"…And didn't run from rabbits this time."
"They're very fast!"
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched.
> [Great Sage: Financial Analysis — Income increased by 27% week-over-week. Suggest reinvestment into durable equipment.]
Ren nodded internally.
> Swords.
He looked up, eyes bright. "Erza."
"…What."
"We can buy real swords now."
She froze.
"…Real?"
"Normal ones!" he added quickly. "Not magic. Just… steel."
Her fingers tightened around a coin.
"…We're allowed?"
Ren scratched his cheek. "The blacksmith sells hunting blades. Swords are just… long knives?"
She stared.
"…That logic is terrible."
"But effective!"
They set out after breakfast—high-protein stew again, because Ren insisted.
The trade road bustled more than usual. A merchant caravan had stopped near the village, wagons creaking, voices loud.
Ren's eyes sparkled.
"So many people!"
"…Stay close," Erza warned.
He immediately drifted two steps away.
"Ren."
He zipped back. "Close!"
They reached the blacksmith's stall—simple, sturdy. Steel gleamed in the cold sun.
The blacksmith eyed them skeptically.
"…Kids."
Ren stood straight. "Sir! We want swords!"
"…No."
Ren blinked.
"…No?"
"You're too small."
Erza stepped forward, chin up. "…We have money."
She held out the coins.
The blacksmith paused.
"…You hunt?"
Ren nodded vigorously. "And cook! And carry wood! And don't cry!"
"…That last one's debatable," Erza muttered.
The man sighed.
"…Fine. Training blades. Dull edge. Balanced."
Ren nodded rapidly. "Yes yes yes!"
They received two simple swords—shorter, heavier than wood, cold to the touch.
Ren held his like it was sacred.
> Real steel…
Erza swung hers experimentally. The weight pulled her arm down.
"…It's heavy."
Ren grinned. "That means we'll get stronger!"
> [Great Sage: Note — Increased load will accelerate muscle adaptation. Monitor fatigue closely.]
They thanked the blacksmith and left, swords wrapped carefully.
Ren hummed all the way back.
Training changed immediately.
The first swing nearly knocked Ren over.
"—WHOAH!"
Erza snorted.
"…You okay?"
"I'm fine!" He wobbled. "Mostly!"
He adjusted his stance, breathing slow.
Sun Breathing — Gentle Dawn.
The blade moved smoother.
> [Great Sage: Positive Feedback — Technique compensation observed. Maintain form.]
Erza struggled more—shoulders tense, grip too tight.
"…Relax," Ren said softly. "Let it move."
"…It's heavy."
"I know," he said. "But you're strong."
She glanced at him.
"…You always say that."
"Because it's true!"
They practiced shorter sessions now—quality over quantity.
Afterward, Ren cooked. Always.
Meat. Beans. Eggs.
"…You're obsessed," Erza said.
"With you being strong!" Ren replied cheerfully.
"…You're weird."
"I know!"
Money kept coming.
They helped merchants unload wagons. Cleared snow. Guided travelers through the forest safely.
Ren learned to negotiate—awkwardly.
"…Two coins?" he asked a merchant.
The man laughed. "…Make it three."
Ren gasped. "REALLY?!"
Erza sighed. "…You're too easy."
But the coins piled up.
Ren counted them every night, proud.
> [Great Sage: Suggestion — Allocate funds for medical supplies and blade maintenance.]
Ren nodded.
> Prepared.
Their bodies changed subtly.
Ren's arms didn't shake as much. His breathing steadied faster.
Erza's swings gained control. Less wild. More deliberate.
One afternoon, Ren tripped during practice and skidded into the dirt.
"…Ow."
Erza rushed over. "…Are you hurt?"
He blinked—then smiled sheepishly.
"…Just surprised."
She helped him up.
"…You're lighter than the sword," she muttered.
"HEY!"
They laughed.
That evening, Ren cooked something new—flatbread with spiced meat.
Erza ate quietly.
"…You've gotten better," she said.
"At cooking?"
"…At everything."
Ren froze.
"…Really?"
She nodded. "…You don't panic anymore."
He stared at his hands.
> I still do… inside.
But he smiled brightly anyway.
"Hehe."
> [Great Sage: Emotional Stability — Improved. Childlike affect remains intact.]
Good.
Ren wanted that.
The next day, they sparred seriously for the first time—steel against steel.
Clang.
Ren's arms vibrated painfully.
"…Oof."
Erza stepped back, eyes wide. "…Sorry!"
"It's okay!" Ren laughed. "That was awesome!"
They adjusted—lighter taps, careful footwork.
> [Great Sage: Suggestion — Introduce paired breathing synchronization drill.]
Ren nodded.
"Okay!" he said. "Breathe with me."
"…Now?"
"Yes!"
They inhaled together.
Exhaled.
Moved.
The swords met softly.
Something clicked.
"…That felt… easier," Erza whispered.
Ren grinned. "See?"
As dusk fell, they sat on the fence again.
"…Do you think," Erza asked quietly, "we can keep doing this?"
Ren looked at their swords leaning nearby.
"…Yes."
> As long as I can stand.
He smiled—wide, childish, unburdened.
"And tomorrow, I'll make even better food!"
She snorted. "…Of course you will."
The moon rose.
Steel rested.
And two children grew—slowly, steadily—strong enough to face what waited beyond Rosemary Village.
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End of Chapter 11 🌙☀️