Saturday dawned bright and clear, the weekend stretching before Lysander like a blank canvas. As he lay in bed, mentally reviewing his plans, he couldn't help but marvel at how different his priorities were in this second life. Where once his weekends had been filled with investment research and networking events carefully calculated to advance his career, now his thoughts centered on family outings and friendships with children his physical age a strange yet surprisingly satisfying shift in focus.
Today marked his first official training session at Master Reyes's dojang, an event that had taken on unexpected significance. What had begun as a strategic opportunity to develop physical skills had evolved into something more meaningful: a bridge between himself and Marcus, and now, unexpectedly, a catalyst for family connection.
"Lysander! Are you up?" His mother's voice called from downstairs. "Breakfast in ten minutes!"
"Coming!" he replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
By the time he made his way to the kitchen, his family was already in various stages of morning preparation. His father sat at the table reviewing something on his tablet while sipping coffee, an unusual sight on a Saturday morning. Typically, even on weekends, Robert kept himself in his home office, maintaining the invisible barrier between his work and family lives.
"Morning, sport," Robert greeted him, glancing up briefly. "Ready for your first real martial arts class?"
"Definitely," Lysander replied, helping himself to the pancakes his mother had placed on the table. "I thought it was just going to be Mom taking Marcus and me, though?"
"Change of plans," Isabel explained, sliding a glass of orange juice toward him. "We thought it might be nice to make it a family outing."
From the other side of the table, Sophia rolled her eyes dramatically. "They're making me come watch you guys do karate kicks instead of sleeping in."
"Taekwondo," Marcus corrected automatically, entering the kitchen with his hair still damp from the shower. "Different martial art. And nobody's forcing you to come."
"Actually," Sophia countered, "Dad literally said 'everyone's going' last night when I tried to say I needed to practice my lines."
Robert looked up from his tablet with an expression of mild exasperation. "You've been practicing those lines every night this week, Sophia. One morning off won't hurt. Plus its good for you rest once in a while."
"Besides," Isabel added, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, "we've barely seen you lately with all your rehearsals. It would be nice to spend some family time together."
Lysander watched the exchange with interest. In his first childhood, he remembered Sophia's theater activities as something that happened largely in the background of his life performances he was dragged to attend, rehearsals that explained her absence from family dinners. Had he ever really appreciated her dedication, her passion for performance? Had he ever truly seen any of his family members as complete people with their own dreams and struggles?
"I think it's cool you're so committed to the play," he offered, drawing surprised looks from everyone at the table. "What? I can't appreciate theater?"
Sophia looked at him suspiciously. "Since when do you care about my 'stupid acting stuff'? That's what you called it last month."
Lysander winced internally. His previous self had clearly been even more self-absorbed than he'd realized. "Maybe I'm trying to be less of a brat," he suggested with a small smile.
This elicited a genuine laugh from his sister. "Miracles do happen, I guess."
As they finished breakfast, Lysander remembered to mention his Sunday plans. "By the way, Marco invited me over tomorrow to play video games with some friends. Is that okay?"
"Friends plural?" His mother looked pleased. "Who else is going?"
"Just some guys from class," Lysander replied casually. "Kevin, Raj... the usual group."
What he didn't mention was that he had quietly suggested to Marco that Gabrielle might enjoy being included as well. Marco had been hesitant "She's a girl, and she probably doesn't even like video games" but had eventually agreed to extend the invitation. Whether Gabrielle would accept remained to be seen, but Lysander felt it was important to offer her the connection, especially after the tension with David and his friends.
"That sounds fine," Isabel confirmed. "Now everyone finish up so we're not late for your class."
The dojang was already bustling with activity when they arrived, several families with children of various ages gathering in the observation area while students in white uniforms warmed up on the mats. Master Reyes greeted them at the entrance, his expression warm as he recognized Lysander and Marcus.
"Ah, the Everett brothers! Welcome." He bowed slightly, then extended a hand to Robert. "You must be their father. I'm Master Reyes."
"Robert Everett," Lysander's father replied, shaking the instructor's hand with the firm grip Lysander remembered from business introductions in his adult life. "Looking forward to seeing what my boys can do."
There was genuine interest in his father's voice—not the polite detachment Lysander recalled from his first childhood sports endeavors, where Robert had attended games or matches out of obligation rather than enthusiasm. Another small shift in the timeline, another ripple from the butterfly effect.
"And you must be Mrs. Everett," Master Reyes continued, turning to Isabel with a respectful nod.
"Isabel, please," his mother replied warmly. "And this is our daughter, Sophia."
Sophia offered a perfunctory smile, already looking around the dojang with the barely concealed boredom of a teenager forced into a family activity.
"Marcus, Lysander, the changing rooms are through that door," Master Reyes indicated. "Class begins in ten minutes. The rest of you are welcome to observe from the seating area."
As they made their way to the changing room, Marcus nudged Lysander's shoulder. "Ready to get your butt kicked, little brother?"
"We'll see who's kicking whose butt," Lysander replied with a grin, the easy banter feeling both foreign and surprisingly natural. In his first life, had they ever shared this kind of brotherly teasing? If they had, the memories had long since faded, overshadowed by the growing distance of their adult years.
The dobok felt crisp and new against his skin as Lysander tied the belt around his waist. Looking in the mirror, he was struck again by the surreal juxtaposition—his child's face staring back at him, framed by the formal uniform of a discipline his adult self had only briefly explored. The physical remembrance of techniques his body had never learned in this timeline remained strange, a dissonance between muscle memory and physical reality that would take time to reconcile.
When they emerged onto the training floor, Lysander spotted his family seated along the wall. His father was watching with genuine interest, while his mother smiled encouragingly. Even Sophia had set aside her script, her attention caught by the disciplined movements of the more advanced students practicing forms at the far end of the room.
Master Reyes gathered the new students in the center of the mat, leading them through a series of basic stretches and warm-up exercises. Lysander moved through them with careful precision, mindful not to display too much knowledge or ability. His adult consciousness understood the progression of techniques better than a novice should, but his child's body still needed to develop the strength and flexibility that only came with consistent training.
"Today, we will evaluate your current abilities to determine appropriate placement," Master Reyes announced once the warm-up was complete. "I will pair each new student with a more experienced practitioner for light sparring and basic self-defense drills."
The evaluation process was methodical, with Master Reyes observing each new student individually while his assistants worked with the others. When Lysander's turn came, he found himself facing a girl perhaps two years older, her movements confident and fluid as they bowed to each other.
"Begin," Master Reyes instructed.
Lysander carefully modulated his responses, showing enough aptitude to justify his quick learning during their previous visit but not so much skill that it would raise questions. He blocked the girl's controlled strikes with appropriate technique, occasionally allowing one to land to maintain the appearance of a talented beginner rather than an experienced practitioner.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Marcus performing impressively against his own opponent, his athletic background providing a natural advantage in balance and reflexes. His brother moved with the confidence of someone accustomed to physical challenges, adapting quickly to the unfamiliar techniques.
When the sparring evaluation ended, Master Reyes gathered the new students once more. "Very good. Now we will assess your knowledge of basic self-defense techniques." He demonstrated a simple wrist grab escape, then had his assistants work with each student individually.
As Lysander moved through the various scenarios, he found himself genuinely enjoying the physical challenge. His adult mind had spent decades focused primarily on mental exercises financial analyses, strategic planning, negotiation tactics. The direct, embodied experience of martial arts training offered a different kind of engagement, one that integrated mind and body in ways his first life had rarely demanded.
"Excellent work, everyone," Master Reyes announced after the final evaluation. "Based on what I've observed today, I will assign each of you to an appropriate training group." He moved among the new students, speaking quietly to each one.
When he reached Lysander, the instructor smiled approvingly. "You show remarkable natural talent, young man. Your brother as well." He glanced toward Marcus, who was chatting with one of the assistant instructors. "I believe you both would benefit from placement in our intermediate group, despite being beginners. The techniques will be more challenging, but I think you will find them more engaging as well."
"Thank you, Master Reyes," Lysander replied with a respectful bow, genuinely pleased by the assessment. The intermediate placement would allow him to progress more quickly, building physical skills that might prove valuable in ways his first childhood self had never appreciated.
When the class concluded, Lysander and Marcus rejoined their family, both flushed with exertion and satisfaction.
"That was incredible!" Sophia exclaimed, her earlier reluctance completely forgotten. "When you flipped that guy twice your size, Marcus—that was like something from a movie!"
Marcus grinned, clearly pleased by his sister's admiration. "It's all about leverage and technique, not strength. Master Reyes says even someone small can take down a bigger opponent if they know the right moves."
"You were pretty impressive too, Lysander," his father commented, surprising him with the direct praise. "Both of you were placed higher than the other new students, right?"
Lysander nodded, warmed by the approval in his father's voice. "Intermediate level. Master Reyes says we can start regular classes next week."
"Well, this calls for a celebration," Isabel declared. "How about we head to the mall for lunch and maybe do a little shopping? It's not often we get everyone together on a Saturday."
The suggestion would have elicited groans from Lysander in his first childhood—shopping with parents ranking high on the list of pre-teen torture. But now, with the perspective of decades and the painful awareness of how finite family time truly was, the prospect seemed like a gift.
"That sounds great," he agreed enthusiastically.
As they gathered their belongings and headed for the car, Lysander found himself walking alongside his father, a rare moment of proximity that felt significant without either of them having to acknowledge it.
"You know," Robert said quietly, "I never did anything like martial arts when I was your age. My father didn't believe in it thought it was a waste of time."
"Really?" Lysander prompted, recognizing the rare personal disclosure for the opportunity it was.
His father nodded, a distant look crossing his features. "He believed in academics and business skills practical things that would lead to success later in life. Sports were fine if they helped with college applications, but anything else..." He shrugged. "Well, let's just say he had strong opinions about what constituted valuable use of time."
The insight into his father's childhood struck Lysander forcefully. How little he had known about Robert's upbringing in either timeline, how rarely they had discussed anything beyond immediate practical matters or academic expectations.
"Do you think he was right?" Lysander asked carefully.
Robert glanced down at him, seeming mildly surprised by the question. After a moment's consideration, he replied, "Right about some things, perhaps. Education matters. Hard work matters." He paused, watching as Marcus demonstrated a technique to an enthralled Sophia several paces ahead. "But I think he missed something important too. Balance, maybe. Or joy." Another pause. "I'm glad you boys are doing this."
The simple statement contained layers of meaning that Lysander might have missed entirely in his first life acknowledgment of past rigidity, recognition of different values, perhaps even a subtle form of apology for patterns Robert himself had perpetuated without fully intending to.
"Thanks, Dad," Lysander said simply, resisting the urge to pursue the conversation further. Some insights were best left to settle naturally, especially when they represented significant shifts in long-established family dynamics.
As they reached the car, the family falling into friendly debate about where to eat lunch at the mall, Lysander felt a profound sense of contentment wash over him. The day had barely begun, yet already it contained more genuine connection than entire months of his first life.