Morning in the Kugami Household
The morning sun spilled golden light through the windows of the Kugami household, dust particles drifting lazily through the air like tiny spirits dancing on air currents. A breeze slipped through a half-cracked window, rustling the curtains in Riku's room.
He didn't notice.
The five-year-old sat cross-legged on his bed, hunched over a thick, worn-out book too heavy for a child his size. Its spine creaked with every page turn. Symbols inked in strange metallic blues and silvers shimmered faintly in the light.
He wasn't just reading.
He was listening—to the pull of the words, the heartbeat of the magic behind them.
And somehow… they were listening back.
Riku (muttering):
"Flow… weave… release…"
He whispered the incantation under his breath. The air tingled, the edges of the symbols glowing faintly in rhythm with his pulse. He didn't try to cast anything—he just wanted to feel it.
Ever since the water incident, something inside him had clicked. Magic wasn't just cool—it made sense. Like it had always been there, waiting for him to remember it.
Mom was right. Magic feels like… home.
A shadow fell across the page.
???:
"Oi, bookworm."
Riku blinked just as a large hand clapped down on his shoulder. He yelped in surprise as the book flopped off his lap and landed with a dull thud on the floor.
Riku:
"Wha—HEY!"
Before he could protest, Kaelen hoisted him up by the underarms like a sack of potatoes.
Kaelen (grinning):
"What is this, huh? Morning meditation? You've been stuffed in this room since breakfast. If you keep cuddling with books all day, your arms are gonna turn into noodles!"
Riku (squirming):
"Dad! Put me down! I was studying!"
Kaelen:
"Studying? Nah, that's code for 'ignoring your old man.' Tragic stuff. Betrayal in my own house!"
He set Riku down gently but ruffled his hair aggressively, earning a pout.
Kaelen (mock-serious):
"Anyway, enough of that arcane mumbo jumbo. Today, we do something useful."
Riku (narrowing eyes):
"Don't say it."
Kaelen (grinning wide):
"Sword training time!"
The backyard was simple: a wide clearing bordered by trees, a few logs, and a stubborn training dummy that had survived a decade of abuse. Its wooden body was cracked, one arm hung limp, and there was a faint burn mark from Elira's "accidental" lightning spell back in the day.
Kaelen tossed Riku a small wooden sword. It bonked against Riku's chest before he caught it awkwardly.
Riku (grunting):
"Is this made of stone?!"
Kaelen (hands on hips):
"It's made of potential, son. Heavy builds strength. Weak arms mean weak swings. Weak swings mean you'll lose to a goose in combat."
Riku (flat):
"…You've fought geese?"
Kaelen (nodding solemnly):
"There are things in this world, boy… things no blade can prepare you for."
Riku held the sword awkwardly. It felt clunky, too long, too heavy.
Kaelen:
"Alright. Show me your war face."
Riku:
"My what?"
Kaelen:
"War face! Like you're about to storm a fortress full of dragons!"
Riku gave a half-hearted scowl. He looked more like he had to pee.
Kaelen grinned anyway.
Kaelen:
"Good enough. Now… strike!"
Riku took a deep breath. He stepped forward, lifted the sword, swung with all his five-year-old strength—
—and launched the sword straight out of his hands.
It spun through the air like a clumsy boomerang and slammed handle-first into the dummy with a whump. Then it bounced off. Barely left a scratch.
Silence.
Kaelen stared.
Riku stared.
Then Kaelen exploded into laughter, staggering backward and collapsing into the grass.
Kaelen (gasping):
"I… I raised a magician, not a warrior! That was—pfft—that was tragic!"
Riku (red-faced):
"DAD! It's not funny!"
Kaelen (wiping tears):
"No, no—you're right—you're right. It's hilarious."
Riku crossed his arms, sulking. His hands still tingled from the grip.
Kaelen (finally catching his breath):
"Alright, alright. We'll start from the real basics. Like… holding your sword without donating it to the wind."
The sun dipped lower in the sky as father and son trained.
Riku's swings were clumsy. His stance? Unstable.
But he tried. Again and again.
Kaelen watched with a softer expression now—less joking, more observing.
By the end, Riku was panting, arms trembling from the effort.
Kaelen (placing a hand on his back):
"Alright, soldier. That's enough."
Riku (panting):
"Am I… getting better?"
Kaelen (grinning):
"The good news? You're slightly less awful."
Riku (hopeful):
"Really?"
Kaelen:
"The bad news? You're still extremely awful."
Riku:
"DAD—"
Kaelen (laughing):
"I'm kidding. Mostly."
Riku sat down in the grass, sighing. Then softly:
Riku:
"You don't really like magic, do you?"
Kaelen paused.
Kaelen:
"…It's not that I hate it. It's just… unpredictable. A sword doesn't lie. A sword doesn't change its mind mid-swing or explode if you breathe wrong."
He looked toward the trees, voice quieter.
Kaelen:
"Magic's gotten people hurt. People I cared about. So yeah… I trust steel more than spells."
Riku (softly):
"But Mom uses magic."
Kaelen (smirking):
"And your mom is terrifying when she wants to be."
They both laughed. The tension faded.
The house was still. Dinner was over, Elira reading in the next room, Kaelen snoring already on the couch.
Riku sat cross-legged again, book open, a small blue orb of water hovering above his palm.
It swirled gently, calm, obedient.
Riku (smiling):
"See? Not a disaster this time."
He closed his hand. The orb vanished with a soft pop.
Then… a whisper.
Not from the wind.
Zarakel (faint, inside his mind):
"The world will shape you… or you will shape the world."
"That is your choice… for now."
Riku froze.
Then turned slowly, eyes scanning the dark corners of the room. Nothing.
He didn't respond. Just sat in silence, the cold echo of Zarakel's voice still hanging in the air like the last note of a sad song.
He didn't sleep for a long time.
[End of Chapter 2]