My parents jointly ran a small company.
Back then, I didn’t know exactly what kind of work they did, but now I understand.
Development of virtual reality connection devices. It seems they were also involved in several government research projects.
It wasn’t a company that brought in enough profit to employ many people.
So when I was younger, my parents were always busy.
Both of them routinely worked late into the night.
There were many times they were so busy they even had to sleep at the company.
It’s not like I didn’t receive love, or that as a child I was put behind work.
This wasn’t the kind of story where that happens.
My parents were never negligent towards me.
Even amidst their busy schedules, they would always come see me.
For just a mere thirty minutes, they would take turns creating time and cutting their sleep short to come home for a single meal with me.
Because of that, I knew—though I grew up quite precociously—that their love was real.
“Son, I noticed your grades have dropped significantly this time.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not that I didn’t prepare at all… it was just a bit difficult.”
“Do you really not enjoy studying?”
“Yes, a little.”
However, I wasn’t an especially diligent son either.
My parents were both elite graduates of prestigious universities.
But my school grades never broke the average, despite the fact that I didn’t skip studying altogether.
When my parents, who rarely brought up “grades,” mentioned them, I knew the inevitable had come.
Actually, it was even surprising to me that they hadn’t until then.
“It’s not that I’m nagging. Your mother doesn’t want to be like those other mothers from the parents’ association who act like they know the future so clearly while failing to see their children dying before their eyes. I don’t want to be that kind of parent.”
“Um…”
“Those women, they don’t notice when their children are dying inside. I don’t want to become such a terrible parent.”
My parents loved me.
I’m sure they did.
The certainty of it was as evident as anything.
My parents loved me to the extreme.
That’s why even in their final moments, they could say it without hesitation.
Even after so much time has passed, their voices remain vivid in my dreams.
– I love you, my son.
When a person is in pain, they let out a scream.
It’s bound to happen when they’re scared; their breathing becomes rough, and when they’re anxious, the body freezes.
Death carries with it pain, fear, and anxiety.
And yet, as she was about to die, my mother wrapped me in her arms without any hesitation.
She looked at me with the warmest, most tender expression.
There wasn’t even a hint of any other emotion in her gaze.
Surely, in that moment, my mother’s mind was filled with thoughts of me, not herself.
I was never a child who grew up without love.
“I’ll try a bit harder with my grades…”
“No. Instead, why don’t we find something that you enjoy? Do you have any interest in sports, for instance?”
“Sports? Hmm, like Taekwondo or baseball?”
“Yeah. A lot of kids your age are doing it.”
“I’m not particularly interested yet, but I don’t hate it, so maybe I could try it out.”
Our financial situation was comfortable enough.
If there was something I wanted to try, we could afford to give it a shot without worry.
Even if I grew up to be an unsuccessful adult, there was no reason to be in a hurry.
But still, I had to admit, it was lacking.
In my younger years, I had many desires.
I wished for more uninterrupted time, not spent alone.
When I returned home from school, I hoped the house wouldn’t be empty.
I preferred home-cooked meals over delivery, even though my friends often loved the latter more.
As much as my parents loved me and cared for me with extreme devotion, it wasn’t enough for my greedy heart.
Still, I couldn’t complain.
I knew better than anyone how hard my parents worked.
I didn’t want to burden them with childish whining.
“So, one of your father’s acquaintances is a kendo instructor, right? Would you like to give it a try for about a month? It could be an experience.”
“Kendo? Alright. When should I start?”
“Well, since the subject came up, how about starting tomorrow?”
“Do I just have to show up?”
“Yes, and I’ll let him know in advance.”
Since I had nothing else to do anyway…
Studying was boring, and I didn’t have any particular hobbies to obsess over.
Trying something in my free time wouldn’t be so bad.
*
At the edge of my vision, the shinai starts to move.
The approaching blade wavers strangely—appearing somewhat unstable.
This suggests that room has been left for redirection.
I take the first strike powerfully, immediately deflecting the opponent’s blade outward.
Success.
The sword without proper force reveals an opening.
With the opponent’s unguarded torso left vulnerable, my shinai strikes.
Bang!
A satisfying sound rang out.
“Is our child doing okay? Are they doing well?”
“Your child shows talent—exceptional, in fact. Have you considered having them seriously train as a competitor?”
“Ahhh, you’re really just flattering them. We wouldn’t jump at that…”
“I’m serious. I’ve never seen a case like this.”
“Goodness, goodness. Is our child really that good? Well, it’s just that they don’t want to, otherwise…”
Mother, that’s enough.
You’re embarrassing me.
I can hear all of it clearly.
Anyway, kendo turned out to be more fun than I’d anticipated.
People tend to enjoy the things they’re good at.
As my skills improved rapidly, so did my interest.
Though I eventually met my first failure—a worthwhile experience in hindsight—I ended up loving kendo for various reasons.
I practiced until it nearly drew blood.
I defeated senior students who were known for their skill, and became a troublesome opponent even for active competitors.
Eventually, I honed my ability to the point where there were hardly any sparring partners left other than a few.
Winning felt good.
I’ve always had a strong competitive spirit, apparently, including myself.
And…moreover.
“Son! We’ve come to watch!”
“What? But you said you were busy.”
“Of course we had to make time when our son is participating in a tournament. Has the match started yet?”
“Not yet. It’s my turn soon.”
“That’s good. We’ll be cheering for you. Do your best, son!”
It was a bit of a tantrum.
My parents are always busy.
Incredibly busy.
Insisting on throwing a tantrum would only cause problems for both of us.
I knew that from a young age.
Still, deep down, I wished for more family time.
Back then, I was younger than I am now but just as needy.
So for me, these tournaments were a wonderful excuse.
Whenever I had an important match, my parents made time, somehow clearing their schedules.
“Even though you said you were busy. Did you push yourself too hard?”
“Push ourselves? Stone told us how important today’s match is for you. Of course we had to come.”
“I would’ve been fine on my own.”
“How much did you look forward to today, huh? And our son really is doing well, isn’t he? Can you see it? I can’t keep up with the speed, it’s all a blur.”
“It’s just…you’d see it all if you concentrated a bit more.”
Until my body and mind matured during my teenage years…
My parents never missed a single event.
On the mornings of tournament days, there would always be light meals with salmon.
After the competition finished in the afternoon, we would spend time together as a family.
I occasionally felt annoyed by my parents and sometimes shy about their presence, but I was never truly bothered by it.
“It’s okay if you don’t come if you’re too busy. I’m not a child anymore.”
Actually, it’s a lie.
I was so thankful and happy that you came.
I really did look forward to it… but I was too clumsy to say it.
I wish I had told you while you were still alive, just once.
“That’s enough. We’ve never strained ourselves to the point of worrying you.”
“It’s important to have family there during moments like these, whether we win and feel joy or lose and feel sorrow. These emotions shouldn’t be swallowed by loneliness.”
I’m not exactly sure which competition this was.
But I remember my mother’s hand softly rubbing my neck while I was grumbling and embarrassed.
I don’t know why her hand landed there.
All I remember is that the soft touch was so warm. That’s why it was my neck.
[Training Mode – Free Practice]
[ battleground: Cradle of the Spider Webs]
[Participant: Gawol (Swordsman)]
“I feel terrible…”
An unpleasant sensation spread across my body, making my throat unbearably itchy.
Since no one was watching, I scratched my left neck fiercely with my fingernails. It hurt, but the warm sensation that followed the flow of blood was comforting.
There was certainly a reason why I had picked up the sword, and it had to do with my parents.
The parents who loved me. The wish to be a little more clingy, to throw little fits.
My childhood, family, and happiness were all tied up in that sword.
Now, all the emotions I had poured into the sword have turned a sickly black.
That’s why I still can’t wield a sword.
Before the blade reaches anything dangerous, I turned off the game.
[Infinity Black has ended.]
[Thank you for using, Gawol.]
