"How many times do I have to tell you not to scream out spell names before casting?" Yuki asked in irritation, pinching Akira's cheeks.
"I-I'm sorry! Pwease fowgive me!" Akira pleaded, his words wobbling from her grip. Normally, pinching didn't feel that painful to him, but for some reason, his mother's pinching was painful.
The two of them were seated in the waiting room, moments after Akira had been forcefully sent back by Yuki's devastating final attack.
Yuki let go with a sigh, shaking her head. "Honestly… in a life-or-death battle, giving your enemy even a second of warning is suicide. Silent casting exists for a reason. Shouting the name of your spell is practically begging to get countered."
Akira rubbed his aching cheeks and muttered, "I know, I know… but I just couldn't help it. It feels wrong not to say the name, like something is telling me this is not the way."
He paused, then said with a smile, "But… how about a compromise? In real-life-or-death battles, I'll stay silent. But in casual fights, or when I know I can win easily, I'll… y'know… play around a little?"
Yuki's eye twitched. "Say that again after you've managed to block at least five of my attacks."
"…Yeah, fair point." Akira sighed as he slumped back.
"So, do you want to continue, or do you want to rest?" Yuki asked Akira, seeing if he could still continue training.
"Sure, we can continue." Akira nodded, but curiosity gnawed at him. "But, before that… what was that magic you used earlier? It was insanely strong."
Yuki's lips curved in a small smile. "That was my signature magic. A high-grade anti-personnel spell called Rupture. It evaporates all liquids inside a target. In the case of living organisms, their body fluids boil away, and their bodies… explode. Just like what happened to you."
Akira blinked, his expression turning stiff. "Wait… I'm pretty sure I know that magic from somewhere…"
Before he could pin down the thought, his mother clapped her hands sharply. "Come on, no spacing out! Get ready, we don't have all day!"
"Eh? Wait, mother, I am coming!" Akira yelped as Yuki grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room to the arena.
And so Akira decided to think about it later, brushing off the thought as the training resumed. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't survive more than three of Yuki's relentless attacks before collapsing, dying over and over again in the arena. His mother was just too strong, and time passed just like that.
"So, how did it go?" Akira's father, Ryuji, asked in a worried tone as soon as his wife entered the room.
"You've got some nerve asking that after leaving so early this morning and abandoning me to train Akira alone," Yuki replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her tone suggested she was more than a little annoyed. "I seem to recall you promised we'd train him together for his first combat session."
"Ah, well, I… went to talk to the Nogizaka family," he stammered, taking a cautious step back. "It's important for Akira's future, right?"
"You went to talk to them in the middle of the night.", Yuki asked with a smile.
"It's early morning", Ryuki corrected.
"That's not the point, tell me the real reason?" she asked, her voice carrying enough weight to crush a person.
"Sigh. Fine. You know I'm not much of a fighter. I would've just gotten in the way and honestly, I don't think I could handle watching him die," Ryuji admitted his true reasoning.
"Are you implying it doesn't affect me when I kill him?" Yuki snapped, her anger flaring.
"No! That's not what I meant!" Ryuji said quickly, hands raised defensively. "But… you're…, well, you're not called the 'Slaughter Princess' for nothing, you know. You were merciless even when training with me when we were children."
"What did you just say?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Nothing! I'm sorry!" he blurted, immediately apologizing.
Yuki sighed. "I understand where you're coming from, but I'm still his mother. It hurts me too, you know." Her tone softened as she admitted the truth.
"I'm sorry. I won't leave you alone like that again," Ryuji said. He is genuinely apologetic.
"Forget it. You'd probably just get in the way anyway," Ryuji replied with another sigh. Her husband was powerful but a softie at heart, and she knew it.
"Anyway, how did things go with the Nogizaka family?" she asked, steering the conversation to safer territory.
"They said they'd think about it. Honestly, I think they're reluctant," he said, looking uneasy.
"Understandable. Normally, asking for something like that would be out of the question. But she insisted it's crucial for our plans, and after today's training, I believe she's right," Yuki said thoughtfully.
"Wait, did something go wrong with the training?" Ryuji asked with concern etched across his face.
"It went… a bit too well, actually. He died 20 times today," she said with exasperation.
"What?! Twenty times?! That's impossible!" Ryuji exclaimed.
"I'm not exaggerating. He died 20 times, almost without rest," Yuki said, shaking her head. Just recalling the day gave her mixed feelings.
"But that's unheard of! Even you only managed twice on your first day, and that was already a family record! How could he endure it without going mad?" he asked, still reeling from thinking about his training when he was a kid.
"How is he now? Is he okay?" he pressed.
"Relax. He's fine. He's in his room cleaning, and Erika-chan is helping," she said, her tone half-bemused.
"You're kidding. Back then, I was traumatized and had nightmares for days. And he's…?" Ryuji asked, struggling to process the situation.
She explained everything that happened during the training, including Akira's odd reactions. She admitted that killing her son repeatedly was painful at first, but his bizarre behavior made it easier. If he'd shown any signs of fear or trauma, she wouldn't have been able to continue.
"Do you think he didn't feel any pain? Or maybe it's because he's the destined one?" Ryuji wondered aloud.
"No, I don't think it's either. It's like he doesn't care about death. Once he realized he couldn't truly die in the arena, he started goofing around. If he took it seriously, he could've lasted much longer. But instead, he treated it like a game," Yuki explained, her voice tinged with concern.
"I'm not sure what to make of it. On one hand, he can fight without fear of death. On the other hand, he might not value his own life. If he has the same mindset in a real battle, he'll die. What should we do?" she asked.
"What about the lives of others? Maybe he'll take things seriously if others depend on his survival. Is that why she asked us to do what we're doing now?" Ryuji mused.
"That makes sense. When she first brought it up, I didn't understand her reasoning. But now it's clear. We should leave his future in her hands. She seems to understand him better than we do," Yuki concluded with a sigh.
"Haha, looks like we're just side characters in his story. All we can do now is keep him safe and prepare for their future. After all, the fate of reality rests on their shoulders," Ryuji said with a laugh.
Suddenly, a loud boom echoed from the next room, followed by Erika's scream.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU IDIOT?!"
The parents froze, staring at each other. Then came a loud whoosh and the sound of… wind?
"Should we even look?" Ryuji asked, already on his feet.
"I think we have to," Yuki replied, though she didn't seem thrilled about it.
They approached Akira's room cautiously. As they opened the door, chaos greeted them. Everything in the room was spinning, his chair, clothes, books, toys, and even his bed. In the center of it all, a broom whirled like the eye of a storm, kicking up a vortex of dust.
Akira clung to the window for dear life, and Erika clung tightly to Akira, her face full of fear.
"I invented a new cleaning spell," Akira said defensively. "It just… got a bit out of control."
"A BIT?!" Erika shrieked. "YOU'VE CREATED A STORM IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR ROOM!"
A sock smacked Ryuji in the face, and Yuki froze, staring wide-eyed at the chaos.
"This is the boy who's supposed to save all of reality someday?" Ryuji thought, dodging a flying book.
"Yeah, Reality is doomed," He thought with a sigh as he saw his son's antics.