It had been five years since I was reborn as a baby. Now I was a child, and I could walk and speak. I was quite fluent in the language they called 'Gordan'.
"Oh Nova! hurry up! Didn't you say you wanted to go see your father and sister train?"
"Coming, mother!"
I hurriedly put on my wooden sandals, ran outside with my little legs. I hugged my mother as soon as I saw her at the entrance. Hugging her always felt nice and warm.
"There, there. Do you love your mother that much? Or perhaps you want me to buy you something?"
"A notebook and a pencil," I said immediately. I had been wanting them for a while now. I didn't ask before now as I feared they would find it strange if I could write at a very young age.
"Oh, you little..! Do you want to imitate your sister? Okay, let's stop at the bazaar on our way back."
I nodded my head in excitement. Finally, I would be able to write again. Speaking aside, I wasn't able to read or write yet. In this village, there are no schools, parents teach the kids themselves. My mother taught my sister too. She promised me to start teaching me as well when I turned 5 years old. That happened last week.
She took my hand in hers, and we headed outside. Today, I was allowed to go to the place where my father worked, a dojo of some kind where he taught swordplay to his students, my sister was one of them too.
Apparently my father was the strongest swordsman in town and worked as a leader in times of war or conflict. During times of peace, he passed his skills on to others.
It had been peaceful for 15 years now.
The dojo wasn't too far from the house, and walking there alone would take me about 15 minutes at best. But my mother stopped to chat with other women every 10 steps.
"Oh, your Nova has grown so much in moments. What have you been feeding him?"
"Oh, don't jinx him. He is still so little and only eats a handful."
Blah, blah, blah... they just kept talking, taking glances at me all the while. I just wanted to leave them and go alone.
"Mother, the dojo..."
I sulked at her; this was his weakness.
"Oh dear, I am sorry I got distracted. Let's go."
We started walking again, a little faster this time. The sand had already become too hot for our feet to be still, even with wooden sandals.
"See, this is the place."
She stopped suddenly and said. The building in front of us was surrounded by trees, the biggest ones I had seen in this town. It was three stories tall, with stone walls outside, unlike the other wooden houses. I couldn't see any signboard.
"Your father is the most important person here, so we can just go in. Come on, let's go."
She pushed open the gate, and we walked in. Inside, the sand was leveled evenly, perhaps by mixing some cement or plaster in it. It was just a vast open ground with the building in the far back. I immediately recognized my father, holding a wooden sword and shouting instructions to about ten or so young boys and girls. One of them was my sister, Eva, who was also carrying a sword. There doesn't seem to be a dress code. Everyone was wearing the traditional clothes of this village made of cotton and leather, me as well. They resembled the clothing of the medieval period in my previous world.
"3, 2, 1. 3, 2, 1. 3, 2, 1. Keep swinging. The more you swing, the stronger your blows will become..."
He shouted in a loud, rough voice. The kids followed the instructions and swung their swords up and down, back and forth.
Not long after, his eyes fell on me, still standing near the entrance beside my mother. We couldn't just go there and disrupt him, could we? We were waiting.
He narrowed his eyes when he saw me. The same cold eyes that he always showed me. Surely he didn't like us coming here.
"Who said you could come here."
He said as he vacated his position and approached us with an angry face. The kids carried on their own. Was I about to get the first beating of my new life?
"Who gave you permission to be here?" My father's voice always held a harsh undertone when addressing me. Conversations with him were rare anyway. I had already discerned the reason behind his indifference towards me.
In this world, every person possessed one of six inherent attributes from birth: Fire, Earth, Water, Wind, Darkness, or Light. It was believed that these elements formed the foundation of the world.
Various methods confirmed one's attribute, but the common practice was an attribute ceremony conducted by an experienced seer who gazed into a crystal ball. In my case, my father had insisted on a personal check, which I distinctly remembered. At first, he didn't reveal my attribute to anyone, but the persistent inquiries from the villagers forced him to.
He was ashamed. I was a Light user.
The issue wasn't with the Light attribute itself, as it was both valuable and rare. The problem was that my father had already decided, even before my birth, that I would become a warrior and eventually lead our clan. After all, I was destined to be his first son.
However, as a Light user, my body and soul were ill-suited for combat skills or combat magic. Being Fire, Water, or even Earth would have been acceptable, but Light? The best I could hope for was to master healing magic.
I was a disappointment to my new father as well, and it weighed heavily on me.
"He wanted to watch you and Eva training, so I brought him here. Is there an issue with that?" My mother spoke up for me, holding me close, her protective instinct in full swing. But I wasn't frightened.
"I've already told you. He has no place among warriors. He's a Light user. Take him back home."
My father held my mother in high regard, often brushing off her playful taunts and nagging. However, when he was resolute, he wouldn't yield even to her.
I was disgusted by his behavior. First he forced his ambition and will on me without my consent and then got disappointed in me when I failed to do something I had no control over.
"Do you think I'm weak just because a crystal ball said so? You train many children here but won't let your own son observe from a distance? What kind of father are you..."
I was incensed. I wasn't a small child he could simply dismiss. My mind was mature, and I knew what I desired, and I was prepared to assert it.
My father rolled his eyes at me, no stranger to my defiance. I was sweet only to my mother and sister.
"Regardless of your protests, you can't change what nature has decreed for you. You'll never learn swordplay. This place isn't for you. Return home and indulge in your beloved books."
"You won't know unless you teach me."
I had made up my mind not to back down. It wasn't as I desperately wanted to learn swordplay, but I was driven by the desire to prove them wrong when everyone kept telling me it was impossible.
"Teaching you would be a waste of time. Light users can't fight. But if you're that insistent, prove yourself through a test. If you succeed, I'll consider teaching you."
"I accept. I'll pass the test. What do I need to do?"
I agreed immediately, confident that I was no weaker than an average five-year-old. Something like an invisible attribute can't decide what I can do or not. I wasn't just ready to accept it.
"Eva! Come here and bring your sword with you."
My sister, who had been observing from a distance, making playful gestures at me, was startled by our father's sudden loud command. She hurried over.
"Yes, sir."
She bowed to him and greeted my mother. Within the dojo, she wasn't permitted to call him father to avoid any perception of special treatment.
"Hand your brother the sword."
Was he about to make me face off against Eva? It seemed unlikely. My sister, five years my senior, had been honing her sword skills for years. It wouldn't be a fair match.
She passed me the sword with both hands, and I took it. It was heavier than expected. Carved out of tough wood. It had no curve like a katana, it was straight and pointy like a talwar.
"Your task is simple: break this sword in two. If you succeed, I will teach you."
"Huh?" I uttered in surprise. "Just that?"
I mean, it was only a wooden sword. How hard could it be to snap it, even for a five-year-old?
"Just that. Take your time," he said, turning to Eva. "Eva, fetch another sword from the shed and resume your practice."
With that, he walked away, showing no intention of observing my test. He seemed remarkably certain that I wouldn't be able to shatter the sword.
"Your father can be quite rude. Don't overexert yourself; you might get hurt," my mother advised.
"Yes, mother."
I closed my eyes and visualized the sword. Placing my hands at its ends, I began exerting pressure at the center. At first, it seemed like it might snap easily due to the slight bending, but after that initial give, it remained steadfast, no matter how hard I pushed. I even attempted to use my thigh as a fulcrum to maximize the force, but the sword proved unyielding.
I was persistent. I didn't want to admit defeat. My eyes were teary. This sword was too tough for me. But I kept trying. I could imagine the other kids laughing at me in their minds. They will surely mock me when they see me in the street. It was shameful. Like always. A single drop rolled off my plum cheeks. My arms aching as lactic acid formed in the muscles.
I couldn't break it. My hands turned red and bruised, mirroring my spirit.
My mother tried to console me, but it offered little solace. I was furious with myself and the sword. A coward's card to play.
"I didn't really want to learn anyway. I only wanted to prove him wrong. But he was right. Let's go home mother."
I said in a small voice. My mentality aside, my emotions were still tender like a child's. I was about to cry. I left the sword on the ground and started walking out of the dojo, my mother followed.
I loved books more than swords. That much was confirmed that day.
To be continued.
