Akira's eyes widened, his mouth a bit open, he didn't expect this, his father would say something like this.
Masaru noticed his son's hesitation "It's not that hard as it looks like" He reassures Akira.
Akira comes out of his thoughts "Uh-umm no I didn't mean that daddy, I'm excited to do it with you!" Akira exclaimed, practically jumping, He clings on his father.
Masaru was surprised, he wasn't expecting this after seeing the look on his face. But he regains his posture and Pat Akira's back.
Akira's mother watched the whole scene, she felt the live between father and son.
"Akira, come here, Take Ren to your room!" Akira's mother calls out.
Akira, turned his head to look at her, then his father let go of him and he walked towards her taking Ren with him.
He walks towards his room, little ren's hand in his, and he opens the door of his room with the free hand, he meters the room and close it.
He leans against the door, he sighs, relived.
"I thought I was gonna get caught by daddy once again" Akira speaks. He looks at Ren, and he kneels down on his eye level.
"Why did you go to the backyard when I told you to stay in I'll be back soon?"
Ren, an innocent face, just looks at him and speaks up "Y-You Took Long Birg Borther!" He says in pure innocent voice.
Akira sighs "It's big brother not Birg Borther" He said in tone somewhat frustrate yet more with adoration.
Akira loved his little brother a lot, He pats his head "next time, don't do this, little guy, You put me in trouble unknowingly."
Ren nodded quickly and looks back at the toys and then at Akira. With pleading eyes.
"Go, Play and I'll come" Akira said, Ren after hearing this rushes to the toys.
Akira walks after him with a kind smile.
Two years had gone by since that pivotal moment, and now Akira found himself deeply immersed in training with his father. Their sessions were intense, filled not only with physical exertion but with emotional complexity as well. The question that had persistently nagged at Akira for so long remained unanswered; rather, it had morphed into something even more intricate and profound, leaving him pondering its implications.
During these rigorous training routines, his father introduced him to something far beyond mere physical movement. This wasn't just a series of dance-like maneuvers; it was known as the breathing style, a breathing technique that carried far-reaching power and transformative potential. The style emphasized rhythm, control, and harmony between mind and body, creating a synchrony that was essential for mastering his abilities.
With patience and precision, Akira's father carefully instructed him on the art of swordsmanship, breaking down each move into manageable segments. Step by step, they worked together, his father gently guiding Akira's hand, teaching him how to harness the blade's might and elegance. Each swing of the sword held the promise of mastery yet achieved, as Akira absorbed the lessons from his father.
As the days unfolded into weeks, then months, time seemed to move with a steady, unyielding pace. Their bond strengthened, and Akira's skill grew with each passing day. Yet, the unanswered question lingered in the background, casting a shadow yet driving his dedication and determination to learn, evolve, and find his path forward.
Some time later.
Akira looks around, he's in front of the main door of the house, Looking around, no one is there, he was trying to sneak away.
He opens the door slowly, and puts out his first step, with his hand holding a Katana. He comes out and closes the door slowly and slowly ran away.
While running "hehe, finally some fresh air" He said while sniffing. He was inside the house, most of the time was spent in training. His father wouldn't allow him to go outside now. And he's out in night, grinning widely.
"I was In the house for almost more than two-years." After coming far from the house he stands facing the house and speaks up "Dad, I'm twelve now, I can take care of myself; even if it wasn't, your rough trainings gonna be sufficient if I wasn't enough to take care of myself"