Growing Up

The world Isamu Yamamoto had opened his eyes to was very different from the one he had left behind. He saw around him his first sight—a warm, cozy room surrounded by soft candlelight. Wooden walls lined with shelves of books and ancient scrolls surrounded him, and the air carried the scent of herbs and spices. Above him, two figures gazed down with joy and tears—his new parents.

The woman holding him had soft blue eyes and silver-white hair that shined like the light of the moon. Her expression was a blend of exhaustion and overwhelming love as she gazed at him. The man beside her, with jet-black hair and broad shoulders, had tears streaming down his face, a face full of pride and happiness. His strong hands gently touched Isamu’s tiny head. Isamu, having his father’s features, black hair and brown eyes, but unlike his father, he has his mother’s intelligence and an innocent face.

“Look at him, Hiroshi,” the woman whispered. “Our son… our little Isamu.”

Hiroshi, his father, nodded, his deep voice cracking with emotion. “He’s perfect, Aiko.”

This was Isamu’s new beginning—not as an orphan in this strange new world, but as the adored child of a family who would raise him with love and care in a world filled with magic and kingdoms.

Isamu’s childhood was a time of wonder and growth. Surrounded by ancient scrolls and magical artifacts in his family’s home, he quickly realized that this world was far more extraordinary than anything he had ever known. His days were filled with excitement watching his father, Hiroshi, a skilled swordsman, and his mother, Aiko, a healer known throughout their village for her powerful magic.

From an early age, Isamu trained under his father’s guidance, learning the art of swordsmanship. Hiroshi was strict but loving, teaching him the importance of discipline and endurance. Isamu also spent time with his mother, learning about healing magic and the natural world. Under her nurturing instruction, he learned not only to heal but also the ways of enchanting, a skill that would serve him well as he grew older.

The village they lived in was at the border of the Eastern Kingdom, far from the larger cities but surrounded by nature. Isamu spent his childhood exploring the dense forests. Often, he would sneak into the practice fields where sorcerers trained in combat magic, observing them and learning by watching. His natural talent for magic and combat grew stronger with every passing year. By the time he was six, his powers had begun to show. The villagers were surprised by the raw strength of his mana—a power more commonly related to nobles than commoners.

Despite his powers, Isamu’s family never allowed him to grow arrogant. His father continued to push him in his combat training, teaching him in swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. Hiroshi also taught Isamu knowledge of human and monster anatomy, giving Isamu an advantage in battle.

No matter how intense his training became, Isamu’s days were filled with love. His parents supported him, encouraging his growth both physically and mentally. He was never alone in this new world, and for that, he felt grateful.

One afternoon, while exploring the forest near their home, Isamu—now ten years old—was hunting monsters to further his skills. The forest was dense, but he had grown used to its sounds and smells. By the age of eight, Isamu had memorized the entire forest surrounding his village. He knew every tree, every scent, and every monster inside and out.

Suddenly, he heard something unusual—a faint sound of crying echoing through the woods.

Curious, Isamu followed the sound until he saw a young boy, about his age, sitting by a tree with tears streaming down his face. The boy had dark hair and looked scared and lost.

“Are you okay?” Isamu asked, approaching cautiously. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

The boy looked up, wiping his tears. “I… I got lost,” he said. “My parents… they’re far away on a journey, and I didn’t mean to come this far.”

Isamu sat beside him, offering a kind smile. He’s been through a lot, and deserves kindness. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now. My name is Isamu Yamamoto. I live in the village near the southern border of the Eastern Kingdom.”

The boy hesitated for a moment before replying, “I’m Akira Kobayashi.”

From that day on, they became best friends. They trained together, hunted monsters side by side, and pushed each other to new heights. Though they were different in many ways, their bond grew stronger each day.

As the days swiftly turned into weeks, Akira remained unaware that his parents are walk straight to their deaths.

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