Weeks passed, and the season shifted into the third month—Igrivale, the time of heightened mana activity when the air itself seemed to hum with unseen currents. The land responded in kind: the grass glowed with an emerald sheen, the trees rustled as if whispering incantations, and every breath felt heavier, charged with arcane vigor.
On this particular afternoon, Yamori sat cross-legged upon the grass, his posture disciplined yet natural. A simple wooden sword rested across his lap, its surface worn smooth from hours of use. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, his mind immersed in silent meditation. Each inhale seemed to draw in the world's mana, and each exhale let it flow out of him like ripples on water.
Not far from him, beneath the shade of a flowering tree, Aurora and Sinbad sat together upon a bench. The couple had been watching the boy for some time, cups of fragrant tea in hand. Sinbad let out a low chuckle, his sharp eyes glimmering with a mixture of pride and mischief.
"That boy," he began, voice carrying the warmth of both admiration and humor, "has trained without rest since the day you so sweetly instructed him. Remarkable indeed, but really—shouldn't he be enjoying himself instead of training so constantly?"
Aurora raised a slender hand, her gesture commanding silence without force. Sinbad's words trailed off, and he sighed knowingly as she spoke, her voice calm and even, like the steady breath of the wind that brushed across the meadow.
"He trains because he wishes to, not because I compelled him," she said, her eyes soft but unyielding. "If this is the choice he made, then I see no reason to interfere. But still… he should have companions his own age. A child should not shoulder solitude, though Yamori is far from ordinary."
Sinbad tilted his head, amused, but did not argue further. Instead, his gaze was drawn to a smaller, lighter presence—Kagami, their youngest, toddling unsteadily on her little feet toward her brother. Her tiny hands reached forward with determination, but a stray pebble sent her stumbling. Before the fall could complete, Yamori's eyes snapped open. With a flash of movement so fluid it seemed preordained, he caught her before she touched the ground.
Aurora's lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes glancing sidelong at Sinbad. He only raised his hands in mock surrender, the sparkle of joy betraying his delight.
"Fine, fine," he conceded with a chuckle. "The boy grows stronger each day. I'll admit, I'm surprised he hasn't awakened a Zodiac yet. Perhaps it's too early, but still… not bad. His speed alone far surpasses what it was back when he was playing the hero for the princess."
He laughed again at the memory, careless in his amusement. Aurora, however, sighed softly at her husband's unrestrained tongue and reached over to swat his cheek lightly with her hand.
"You have no shame," she scolded gently, though her tone carried more affection than true reproach. "And to add to your shamelessness, you still haven't told Yamori that the girl he carried so protectively was the princess herself… or that the earring she gave him was no trinket but a royal heirloom. You do realize how furious he will be when he learns the truth, yes?"
Sinbad rubbed the spot where she struck him, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. His gaze drifted back toward Yamori, who was now dodging Kagami's playful attempts to cling to his legs. The boy's laughter was low but genuine, his movements fluid yet restrained so as not to harm his sister.
For Sinbad, it was these quiet moments—so fleeting and fragile—that mattered most. Watching his children together, watching his wife's knowing smile, he could not help but feel the weight of family settle within his chest. In this world of mana and destiny, power and danger, such moments were treasures beyond measure.
And for Yamori, though he might not yet realize it, these days of training beneath the sun, with his family nearby, were shaping him into far more than a warrior. They were shaping him into something rarer still.