Chapter 9: The Pride That is Inherited.

"Father, I wish to learn swordplay."

That was what my boy told me.

Following that request, my face was plastered with nothing but pure glee as of right now.

If only I hadn't care much about my dignity as a parent I would rolled around the ground with a debauch expression most likely.

"Father?"

"Um, yeah?"

Shit! No good.

I realised that I was gazing silently still at my feet instead of giving an answer.

In any case it was not something that would encourage a child, especially right after that child request of something.

But still, I asked tentatively, "Really? Do you think you can went through the regirous training?"

Ah N—Not good. That might actually repulse him from the prospect of learning.

The choice of words was poor, I intend to ask only if he was willing for real.

The silent stretch for a bit while I was panicking Inside, fearing he was not entirely willing, but then I realised it was just him adjusting his posture before responding.

"OF COURSE!" Thé answer was as confident as I wished it to be.

The boy was only two years old, but I could already tell he would be extremely stubborn in the future.

Naturally, stubbornness and pride loved each other, and as a result it was pretty obvious he would become extremely prideful.

This was what I feared most for him, there are many people in the world whom I can not even begin to imagine matching, let alone defeat.

And, because my boy has a talent for magic, it would be a simple matter for him to develop an ego that would put itself far higher than his potential.

I mean, look at that relaxed posture, aloof expression, and comfortable demeanor.

It was of course a prerequisite for anyone of my bloodline to be prideful.

But, even now being a toddler who should normally be only capable of speaking just a few words, he show an air of someone better than thou.

But of course, it fills me with nothing but pride, along with it a certain warmth I've never felt before.

Well... I suppose we can deal with future problem in the future.

"Then!" I half shouted, with the most serious expression I could muster, "From today onwards, I will be your Master!"

The boy was quiet, again, gazing at me serenely, awaiting for my next statements.

Or maybe because he just didn't know the significance of the words that were said. Or because he don't know how such declaration should be respond.

He didn't immediately open his mouth for a few moment.

My face, while maintaining the serious facade was getting hotter and hotter as the silent stretch.

But before long, my boy decided to speak.

It was a few decibels louder than usual mind you, and this boy often frown at his mother for being too loud.

"YES MASTER!"

Like his usual slow and steady movement, he maneuvered his relaxed posture into a more attentive stance, again awaiting the next command.

Come on boy. You are about to shame your old man, don't be a sloth.

On the other hand the situation was kind of funny, it felt as if I was training my own little Esquire.

Which, was kind of exactly what I did.

No good, I am about to crack open a smile. Slipping both of my arms behind, I pinched myself so to maintain the stern looks.

Keeping this subject aside, I observed his body carefully, which I come to realised was a thing I'd never did before.

I should give my boy more attention, les he thinks his old man detest him.

I frown and direct my thinking towards the more objective task for now.

My boy, his muscles and his body in general, as you'd expect was tiny and underdeveloped.

Even if he collect all his might and strike at me, I don't think it will scratch me, much less receiving any damage.

It would be impossible to build up his strength, but that was not the most important task.

Even without strength you can still improved other things that are equally important, but, to do even that, what is most important for now is stamina.

So, I decided. "We will first try to build your stamina and endurance first. And after that, we will learn some of the basic posture of the three sword style." I spoke sternly.

"Yes Master!" Boy, you are about to make your old man blush like that, that oddly serious expression for a child is a danger to my heart.

Using maximum will power, I crossed my arms and nodded

"Hhhummuu" (Happy Nero sound) "Today we will circle the village, your aim should be to run for about 30 minutes straight."

I needed to first test his grit, it was the most important thing for someone who wanted to embark on the path of the sword.

"Yes Master!" I look away from him, showing a fully debauch expression.

"Okay, run before me, but not too fast, and not too slow."

"Yes Master!"

Maintaining his pace, I followed in his foot trails.

-------

"Son, you can rest now if you like." That was a suggestion from a father and not a master.

I have suggested for him to stop about 57 times now, he had answer only three times, it was the first three.

I ask him because he started to lose his breath from the 15 minutes mark, which was where I thought he would have given up.

Even if it sounded absurd and selfish, as his master I still wanted to see his mental resilience, but as a father I was worried and wanted to stop him.

And my boy had realised at some point that the reason I suggest to stop was because of his labourous breath, and now there was no longer any excessive sound which makes me even more worried.

He was clearly forcing himself, "It, It has been 30 minutes."

"Haa... Haa... Haaa... Si... Haa... Six minutes... Haa... Left."

Because he needed to answer to his master who'd lie to him, he had to open his mouth, and it naturally was followed by a heavy intake of air, but closed it promptly after he gave his response.

His words were closer to a whisper, disjointed and difficult to hear altogether.

But even if I could not hear what he said at all, nobody would mistake the absolute refusal to fail that seeped out from that answer.

The way he ran wobbly, his bend back, his posture in general, everything about him suggested that he would collapse at any moment now, and I don't believe it is healthy at all for him.

But I could not stop him.

It had been that way for a good 10 minutes now, but he still didn't fell, and much less gave up.

It was not so much of a mental strength, as it was more of his ego that still allowed him to move.

He was prideful, which was what I feared.

Because my father was, and my boy clearly resembles him, they both seems to fear presenting themselves as weak.

In any moment, I could stop him, as his father or master.

But I wanted to see if it was really possible to brute force his aim through sheer stubborn arrogance both he and my father seems to possessed.

I was not tired myself, I could run at this pace for a month without getting my stamina drained, but I feel six minutes, right now was far too long and painful to wait.

An undetermined amount of time passes by like that, which was strangely exhausting, but before I had realised, my house was becoming visible.

Finally, my boy stop and decided to speak, with a muffled, exhausted voice.

"Haa... Haa... T... Thirty, minutes..." As he finished his sentence he immediately fell to the ground.

He had passed out due to his exhaustion.