The Reason I Don't Give Up
The next day—
"…Please. Entertain me."
"Child of a hero."
"Hah—!"
The sense that someone was standing right in front of me jolted me awake. I snapped my eyes open.
Bang.
Hearing my voice, Mom came rushing into the room.
"Son?"
"What's wrong?"
"Mom?"
"No… I just had a bad dream."
She hurried over and took my hand.
"It's all right. You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"
"I'm really fine."
Mom was looking at me with an anxious face. I didn't want to see her like that, so I changed the subject.
"Never mind that, Mom!"
"I'm hungry!"
Mom said nothing—just smiled.
"All right. I'll get things ready. Go wash your face."
"Okay!"
My fingertips were still trembling. The voice from the dream wouldn't leave my ears.
Why do I keep feeling like this?
Mom walked quietly toward the kitchen. There were shadows under her eyes.
Did she not sleep a wink because of me?
I pushed the sad thought aside and went to wash my face. Even then, it still felt as though someone was watching me.
"Mom, I'm done washing up!"
"Good."
"Just wait a little longer."
"It's almost ready."
"Is there anything I can help with?"
"Well then—would you set the forks and knives on the table for me?"
"Yes!"
"I'm glad you seem all right."
"Huh? Mom, what did you just say?"
"Nothing."
"All right! Shall we eat?"
Mom set the food on the table.
"Wow—thank you for the meal!"
"Eat plenty."
I started in on the food Mom had made. The moment I was about to take a bite—
I heard footsteps approaching from outside.
"Mom, I think someone's coming."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yeah."
Mom looked faintly startled by what I'd said.
"You keep eating."
"I'll go check."
She walked carefully toward the door.
Thud.
"It's been a while since I've been home."
The front door opened.
"Honey! Son—I'm back!"
The person who stepped through the doorway was Dad. Dad had come home.
"Dad's back!"
I set down my food, ran to him, and threw my arms around him.
"Well, well—there's my boy."
"Have you been well?"
"What have you got all over your mouth?"
I hurriedly wiped my face.
"Mom's cooking was so good."
"Never mind that, Dad!"
"Hm?"
"How was this adventure?"
"You're asking for adventure stories the second I walk in?"
"I'm still standing in the entryway."
"But still!"
"Your adventure stories are always so fun!"
My dad is the adventurer Fer. He used to be a famous one, he said… but ever since I was born, he didn't seem to take on anything truly dangerous. That same dad had been away on a somewhat longer adventure, and today he had finally come home.
"Haha—my son's got energy to spare!"
Seeing him after so long made my whole body light up with excitement. But—
Mom's face was smiling, yet her eyes told a different story. As always, whenever Dad returned from an adventure, she looked at him with a mixture of relief and worry.
"You've worked hard, dear… You're not hurt anywhere, are you?"
"Don't worry. I know you'd be the one fretting most if I got hurt."
"I never get hurt."
Dad laughed heartily, but a shadow settled around his eyes.
"This job… was a little rough, I'll admit."
Mom quietly pulled him into an embrace.
"It's all right to rest a little."
"No one is forcing you anymore."
Dad nodded instead of answering.
"I think that would be best."
Thud.
Clink.
"I got paid well this time, so I should be able to take it easy for a while."
The moment I heard that, my eyes lit up.
"So that means I get to hear Dad's adventure stories for a while?"
Dad glanced at Mom and smiled gently, even through his exhaustion.
"Of course. If my son wants to hear them, I'll tell him."
"But first… let's eat!"
"Yes!"
We gathered around the table and began chatting warmly over dinner.
"Is it very cold outside?"
"Quite cold."
"I'll have to put more firewood on later."
"That would be good."
"Never mind that, Dad!"
"Want to hear what happened to me today?"
"Go on, go on."
I told Dad everything that had happened the day before—what games I'd played with Mom at home, the story she'd told me about the four heroes, and about the Book of Records as well.
In that instant—
Dad set down his fork and looked at me. The smiling expression vanished from his face. A draft blew in from outside. The candle flame wavered, looking as though it might go out at any second.
Flick.
The light died. For the first time, I couldn't see Dad's face. He sat there in silence for a moment, staring blankly. Then he opened his mouth.
"Armel… is what our son said true?"
Mom said nothing—only nodded.
The smiling face was gone, and Dad's expression… was one I'd never seen before. It was strange.
"Yes… it's true."
"…How did he come to see it?"
Fer let out a deep sigh.
"Blood… doesn't lie."
I didn't understand that sigh. But—
The dad who was always bright and warm wore, on this night alone, a seriousness I had never seen.
He gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought.
"Son…"
At that single word, I straightened my back without thinking and tensed.
"Would you like to learn the sword from me?"
His voice was low, carrying a quiet resolve.
"What?"
"Last time you said I was too young—that I should learn later…"
"I've changed my mind."
"You don't want to learn?"
Bang!
"No!"
"I want to learn!"
Mom started and dropped her fork.
"Good. From now on…"
"I think I need to teach you before it's too late."
In that moment, Dad wore the look of a man who had steeled himself for something. I didn't understand any of that—I was just so excited at the thought of learning the sword that my heart pounded.
"Then I'm going to my room first to sleep!"
I hurried off to my room.
Armel watched her son's retreating back and smiled softly.
"He's so happy."
"Indeed."
"If I'd known it would be like this, I would have taught him sooner."
"It was a busy time."
"Tomorrow's going to be a busy day, isn't it?"
The next morning—
Knock, knock.
The door opened and Dad stepped into my room. He pulled back the curtains, threw the window wide, and spoke in a bright voice.
"Son! Ready to start learning the sword today?"
The serious, heavy expression from last night was gone—so completely that it almost felt like a dream. Dad was as warm and kind as ever.
I scrambled out of bed.
"Yes! Let's go!"
After breakfast, we got ready to leave the house. Dad stopped in the entryway with a wooden practice sword in hand.
"Well then, Armel—I'll be back early."
Mom's eyes were full of nothing but worry.
"Fer, it's his first day. Don't push him too hard."
She stroked my hair. Dad smiled as if he found her endearing and pulled her into a hug.
"Don't worry."
"Our son's stamina is better than anyone's, isn't it?"
"Right, son?"
"Yes! Don't worry, Mom."
"All right."
"Come back before sundown. It's getting very cold."
"Yes. We'll be off."
We climbed the hill behind the village. Dad had always practiced alone up there, swinging his sword.
Whoosh!
Every time his blade cut through the air, the grass around him trembled from the force of it.
"All right, son. Shall we begin sword practice?"
Just holding the wooden sword made my heart race like mad.
"What should I do first?"
I couldn't hide my excitement; my voice came out bright and eager. Dad smiled at me.
"My son's overflowing with energy."
"But there's something we need to do before you pick up a sword."
I tilted my head.
"Haha. You thought all you had to do was learn the sword, didn't you?"
"What you need before learning the sword is this—"
"Stamina."
"I'm confident about my stamina!"
I said it with absolute certainty. Dad gave a short laugh and nodded.
"That's my boy."
"Then starting now—this hill we just climbed."
He pointed down toward the base of the slope.
"Thirty round trips."
For a second I thought I'd misheard.
"Dad—thirty times?"
"I misheard that, right?"
"You didn't mishear."
"Thirty times is correct. Don't worry—I'll run with you."
"Dad, even so…"
"I'm only seven."
"So, son."
"Scared?"
"No!"
"Let's run. Who said I was scared?"
What an easy kid.
Dad and I started running the hill right away. His training routine was simple: five round trips, three minutes of rest, then five more—repeating until we hit thirty.
Through the first five, I was still fine. My breath was a little short, but my legs still felt light.
"Dad, this isn't that hard."
I said it confidently as I caught my breath.
"At this rate, thirty will be easy!"
Dad heard that, smirked, and answered.
"I'll match your pace for the first ten laps."
"After that, I'll run on my own."
"Just do your best to finish all thirty."
He glanced at the watch around his neck.
"All right—three minutes are up. Let's run again, son."
I blinked in surprise.
"Three minutes already?"
"It feels like we just got here."
"Haha. Up you get."
"Time to head back down."
"Okay…"
And down the hill we went again.
After ten laps, Dad's running sped up.
"I'll be waiting at the top—don't push yourself too hard."
He flew up and down the hill at an incredible pace.
The fifteenth.
The moment I reached the top, Dad looked at me without the slightest sign of fatigue.
"Want to stop, son?"
"You can quit now and try again tomorrow."
In that moment, I saw the playful smile that crossed his face.
"Shall we call it a day and start over tomorrow?"
I know my dad. He's always smiling and wonderful—but he hates giving up more than anything.
I spoke to him between gasps for air.
"If I quit here… would you really say that's okay?"
Dad was quiet for a moment, thinking.
"I think that if something is truly hard for you, giving up right away isn't such a bad thing."
"You're my child, after all."
His eyes held no lie at all.
Honestly—
My legs felt like they would give out and send me sprawling. I could barely breathe properly. But.
"It's only fifteen."
"If I try a little more and still can't do it, it's not too late to quit then, right?"
It felt like something had struck me square in the head.
"Ha! That's my son."
"Three minutes are up. Let's head down and run again."
"Yes."
The twenty-fifth—
As I climbed the hill, I thought I saw a man and a woman dancing beneath a tree.
What…?
I rubbed my eyes and looked at the tree again.
Must have been seeing things.
I wanted to believe that.
When I finished the lap and entered the rest period, my legs began to shake.
"Son—are you all right now?"
"Think you can keep running?"
Honestly, I couldn't even breathe the way I wanted, and my legs wouldn't listen. But the words I give up simply wouldn't come out.
"Hoo… I'm fine."
"Dad, I've already run too far to quit now."
Dad looked at me and gently stroked my hair.
"Good."
"My son really is something special."
I was exhausted, yet I felt so good I almost laughed.
"Dad, then I'll go run the last five laps."
"All right, son. Give it everything you've got."
"I'll be watching from the top."
I ran those final five laps.
At last—
The thirtieth.
I reached the summit. I collapsed right there, gasping for air.
"I knew my son had good stamina."
"But I never thought you'd actually finish all thirty… Incredible!"
I forced the words out between ragged breaths.
"My… grit is pretty strong, you know."
"That's right. Your grit is something else."
"But Dad."
"Why did you tell me to quit at fifteen?"
Dad said nothing, only looked up at the sky.
"That was because I wanted to see how long you could hold on."
He looked at my exhausted face and spoke again.
"Swordsmanship is… patience and effort."
"And the composure to never let go, no matter the moment."
He gently ran his fingers through my hair.
"Today, you showed me all three—patience, effort, and composure."
"Think about it."
"Thirty trips up a hill for a seven-year-old—does that sound reasonable to you?"
"No."
"Exactly. And yet you didn't doubt it—you succeeded."
"You didn't give up."
Dad was walking beside me, but even without looking up I could hear the lift in his voice.
"Son—don't forget the perseverance and effort you showed today. Keep them with you."
"Yes!"
"Good."
"Let's head in before it gets any colder."
"Starting tomorrow, we'll build real stamina."
For a moment, the thought of having to keep doing this left me speechless. But the idea that I couldn't do it never crossed my mind.
"I'll work hard."
We made our way slowly down the hill. The shadows began to stretch longer and longer.
"It's getting colder."
"Yeah. Let's hurry inside."
My legs were trembling. But strangely, I found myself smiling.
I had truly taken my first step toward learning the sword.
The sunset painted everything red, and the wind grew a little colder.