Five Years Later
Five years had passed since the war ended and I retired, since the day I first met Elia. Five years—long if you thought about it, short if you didn't—had slipped by in the blink of an eye. My days consisted of little more than farming, training, and raising a child, yet those three tasks alone kept me endlessly busy.
First, I tended the fields before the temperature dropped too far into early winter. When spring approached, I bought seedlings from the village and began planting. The harvest that year was a resounding success. Though my knowledge of farming was rudimentary at best, the fertile soil and favorable weather carried me through. Potatoes, tomatoes, radishes, cabbages, and more sprouted lush and green across the freshly turned earth. Perhaps because the land itself held mana, ordinary pests avoided the fields entirely—only the occasional monster-bred insects ever caused trouble. With each passing year my understanding grew, and through trial and error I gradually became competent at the work.
Raising Elia, however, proved far more difficult than farming. The first six months, until her baby hair fell out and new strands began to grow, were the hardest. Unable to communicate, I had to keep her surroundings spotless to prevent illness, warm milk at set times, and clean her whenever she soiled herself. Whether working the fields or training, I kept her always within sight, never letting my attention stray. Raising her alone meant there was no one else to share the burden; every moment demanded vigilance. It was twenty-four hours of unbroken tension.
Still, things eased once she moved beyond milk to solid food and could burp on her own. By the time she turned one she was taking her first steps and beginning to speak, allowing the first fragile threads of communication. Child-rearing remained exhausting, yet familiarity brought a measure of ease. After the brutal early period, the second year onward grew noticeably gentler. Elia walked and ran with confidence, and her vocabulary expanded beyond "mama" and "papa." Most of all, the affection that had naturally taken root after two years of raising her made everything simpler. How could I not love the child I had poured every ounce of my strength into? Where once I had merely found her cute, by the second year the simple sight of her filled me with warmth. I wanted to hold her all day and rub my face against hers—though doing so would have earned me a firm shove even from the usually inexpressive Elia.
Now, five years later, that difficult beginning lay far behind us. Recently I had begun teaching Elia the common tongue of the Marika Continent and basic arithmetic.
… …… ………
"All right, Elia. What's this?"
"A sparrow."
"That's right! It's a sparrow. Our Elia's a genius, isn't she? You can read, write, and speak now, can't you?"
"Hehe, yeah…!"
At my praise Elia smiled, showing her small teeth. She rarely displayed emotion, but positive feelings—joy, anticipation—surfaced more readily than negative ones. At least, they did in front of me and Luina, who visited once a month. That was something. Worried something might be wrong with her emotionally, I had taken her to a skilled physician and a spirit-magic specialist a year ago. Their diagnosis was reassuring: she felt emotions normally. She simply possessed a naturally expressionless face; unless feelings overflowed, they rarely showed. There was no treatment, nor any need for one. Relieved, I made it a point afterward to fill her days with positive experiences. After all, if any emotion were to break through that blank expression, it suited her far better when it was something bright.
Besides, Elia was so bright that praise was the only possible response. The common tongue was designed to be as easy to learn as Hangul, yet even so she had mastered reading and writing in less than a year and a half. Arithmetic came just as quickly. She grasped concepts almost immediately.
"Elia, suppose you have three apples and buy seven more from the merchant. Then on the way home you give two to your friends. How many apples do you have left?"
"Um… eight!"
"Correct! Our Elia's really clever, isn't she?"
"Yeah! I'm a genius!"
She still struggled with double-digit addition and subtraction, but at only five years old she could already solve mixed single-digit problems perfectly—and mentally, without writing anything down. At this rate she might master the four arithmetic operations within a year and handle double-digit calculations before she turned seven. Considering most people in this world only managed basic arithmetic by their mid-teens, her achievement was remarkable.
I reached out and ruffled her hair in approval. Elia rose onto her tiptoes, pressing her head into my hand with obvious delight.
"Ehehe…"
Her quiet laughter was enough to melt anyone's heart. Her straight white hair now reached her shoulders, framing an unbearably cute face. I stroked her a little longer before forcing myself to pull away and stand.
"We've finished today's lesson, so rest for a bit, Elia. Papa's going to train for a while."
"Okay! I'll rest!"
The moment I finished speaking she snatched up the bear doll beside her chair and flung herself onto the sofa. The doll was larger than she was, so it looked as though the bear were hugging her instead—an even more endearing sight. Smiling at the scene, I left the cottage and headed for the training ground behind it.
"Time to loosen up a little."
My body felt stiff after preparing breakfast and teaching all morning. I stretched lightly to loosen my muscles, then walked to the corner where wooden practice swords stood stacked inside an oak barrel. I drew one out.
"Hoo…"
I had never been in bad shape, but holding a sword always brought a peculiar calm. In an unpredictable world, the weight of a blade in my hand made me feel that no danger could truly touch me. I exhaled a long breath and slowly raised the sword above my head.
First, the basic forms—light and easy.
Shwaaak—!
The blade sliced through the air, leaving a shimmering afterimage. Before the first trace faded, five more strikes followed in rapid succession. Five cuts overlapped almost simultaneously, splitting the original afterimage into five separate trails. Only afterward did the sharp cracks of displaced air reach my ears.
Paang—!!!
A whip-like burst echoed across the training ground. When the sound faded, only the scars left by the sword on the dirt remained. My speed had not dulled much compared to five years ago, yet without real combat experience the edge of each strike felt slightly blunter. I clicked my tongue.
"Well… can't be helped."
I disliked the dullness, but I wasn't training to kill anyone. The goal was simply to keep my body from rusting in case of emergency. I lifted the sword again.
Once more the basic forms, followed by thirty variations and the hundred and fifty practical techniques I had developed during the war. I poured everything into each movement, swinging the wooden blade with full force. Sunlight, wind, the surrounding scenery—all of it faded until only the sword and I remained. I sank deeper into the rhythm of training, unaware that Elia and Luina had approached the far side of the grounds.