Spirit Silhouette

Koi watched with her heart pounding in her chest at what was happening before her eyes. She had always known Ao was special. From the moment he was born, she felt it deep in her bones. He learned fast, too fast. He was naturally gifted, beyond what any normal child should be. But this—this was something else.

She had seen his growth, his intelligence, but to witness him in combat… learning from a single hit and adapting instantly? It was almost unnatural.

And then there was Shiro.

Koi had known him for years, seen him fight beasts, monsters, even other trained hunters. She had watched him cut down spirit beasts that could crush men twice his size, had seen him dance through battles like death incarnate. His swordsmanship was something that always left her breathless.

But watching him now—seeing how effortlessly he had gotten out of Ao's trap, seeing how he had played into his son's strategy and still turned the fight in his favor— She had been married to this man for years, but even now, the sheer weight of his presence in combat sent chills down her spine.

Ao felt it too.

His father hadn't moved—not yet. But something about his stance, the way he held the stick now, was different.

Shiro's usual smirk was gone.

His expression darkened, his eyes glowing white, the only visible thing on his face as the shadows from the setting sun cast harsh lines over his features. The twig in his hand rested against his hip, like a sheathed blade waiting to be drawn.

It was a killing stance.

And then—

Slash.

Ao didn't see it.

There was no wind up, no movement—only impact.

His body jerked violently as something struck his right knee.

Then—

Slash. Slash. Slash.

A blur of afterimages filled his vision.

His wrist snapped back, his shoulder jolted, his ankle buckled beneath him— His joints. His vulnerabilities. Every single weak point on his body was hit in rapid succession. By the time his mind caught up, Ao was already falling.

But it wasn't over.

Shiro spun the twig in his hand, smoothly transitioning into an upward slash—

It caught Ao right under the chin.

The force sent him flying back, his small body flipping once before slamming into the dirt, skidding across the ground. A thick silence filled the air.

Ao's entire body screamed in protest, every muscle aching from the sheer force of the blows he had endured. The strikes had come so fast that he hadn't even registered them—his body had just reacted to the pain before his mind even caught up.

Man... Ao thought, letting out a slow, shaky breath as he grunted, trying to straighten himself. That was his sword style?

It wasn't fear that filled him. It wasn't sadness, nor frustration. He was completely awestruck and he wanted nothing more than to try it himself.

Even though he had lost—badly—he couldn't stop the burning desire in his chest. He had barely seen the technique in action, let alone comprehended it, but that didn't matter. Even if he could only copy the smallest fraction of what he had witnessed, it would be a start.

But… right now, he could barely move.

Even then, even with the searing pain that made his limbs tremble, he refused to give up.

Not now. Not when he was so close.

He needed to keep going. No matter how much it hurt.

Koi was at his side in an instant, crouching beside him with gentle hands, carefully lifting his battered body. As soon as he was upright, she pulled him against her chest, her arms wrapping protectively around his tiny frame. Then, she turned to Shiro.

Her dark blue eyes locked onto his, and for the first time in years, Shiro Hinoté felt fear.

Shiro had faced down spirit beasts the size of houses. He had been hunted, attacked, and thrown into death matches more times than he could count. He had walked through warzones and came out alive.

But none of that compared to the look his wife was giving him now. Her expression was calm—too calm. But her ears, sharp and alert, were pinned forward, standing stiff as stone. Her tail, usually relaxed and swaying gently behind her, was now perfectly still.

And her voice, when she finally spoke, was low, carrying an eerie sharpness. "I told you about being rough with him, Shiro Hinoté."

Shiro's tail immediately tucked between his legs. He didn't even realize it had done so until he felt it curl against his calf.

Koi didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to. "He's a child," she continued, her tone was one someone had when they wanted nothing more than to kill, yet she clearly didn't want to do that.. that was what made it scary. "A one-year-old child, at that."

Shiro couldn't look her in the eye. His jaw clenched slightly, but he knew there was no way out of this one. He had definitely gone too far.

Koi held Ao closer, her gaze never leaving Shiro. "For that," she said, voice soft yet it didn't lose any of its edge. "you will be teaching him swordsmanship. Do I make myself clear?"

Shiro's ears flattened against the sides of his head. "... Y-yes ma'am," he muttered.

Ao, still held securely against his mother's chest, stared.

Shiro… backed down?

Ao had never seen his father look scared before—not even when facing overwhelming odds, not when talking about the dangers of spirit beasts, not even when casually mentioning his past fights.

But here he was, someone who was double his mother's height, one of the strongest fighters Ao had ever seen, shrinking under his mother's glare.

Koi smiled, her tail flicking as if nothing had happened. Her expression softened instantly, like she hadn't just struck pure terror into her husband mere seconds ago.

"Good," she said sweetly. "Now, apologize to Ao and go get dinner ready while I patch his wounds."

Shiro blinked. "...Wait. You want me to cook?"

Koi's head tilted slightly, her smile still perfectly calm. "Did I stutter?"

Shiro sighed in defeat. "... No, ma'am."

Ao swallowed. I am so, so glad that wasn't directed at me. Even though Koi's rage wasn't focused on him, Ao's entire body instinctively curled up—his tail tucking in, his frame trying to shrink. It wasn't even him doing it. It was instinct.

For a brief moment, Ao forgot about the bruises, the sore joints, the throbbing in his chin.

Shiro, shaking his head, finally turned toward Ao, crouching down slightly.

"Alright, kid," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "... I might've hit you a little harder than I meant to. My bad."

Ao stared at him.

Shiro cleared his throat awkwardly. "... Uh. I mean—I'm sorry, kid."

Ao blinked then, slowly, he nodded. "... It's fine," he muttered, still watching Koi warily out of the corner of his eye.

Shiro exhaled like a man who had just survived a near-death experience.

"Alright, then," he muttered, standing up. "Guess I'll be in the kitchen."

As he walked off, muttering about how he was way too good with a sword to be stuck making stew, Koi gently ran her fingers through Ao's hair, sighing softly.

"Honestly, you two…" she murmured, shaking her head.

_______

A few days had passed since the sparring match, and Ao's training had yet to begin. Instead, his days were filled with gentle recovery. His body, still sore from the blows, needed time to heal. Koi took no chances—she ensured Shiro spent quality time with Ao, this time not with combat, but with other activities that Ao usually liked.

Shiro, under her watchful eye, shifted gears. Instead of drills and sword techniques, he broke down concepts from Ao's books, explaining certain things that Ao didn't get before in the spirit manipulation manual. He also introduced basic math, showing Ao how to count using pebbles and simple equations drawn in the dirt he got from outside. They sat together at the worn kitchen table, Shiro guiding Ao's tiny hand as he practiced writing letters with a charcoal stick.

He showed Ao how to carve small sculptures out of wood, demonstrating how to carefully chip away at the material to create the complex shapes. Ao's hands, still small and unsteady, fumbled with the knife, but Shiro was always there, his large hand resting over Ao's to guide him, though Ao wasn't good at it and always broke the wood he was carving.

Despite this, Shiro's mind was rarely at ease. He couldn't shake the memory of their spar—the way Ao had used spiritual energy so naturally, the strategic execution of his plan. His son was gifted. He wanted to ask Ao outright—where did he learn that? How long had he known how to manipulate spiritual energy? But the guilt of Ao's injuries kept his questions at bay.

The boy was resilient, but still, he was only a child. Shiro had let his pride as a warrior overshadow his duty as a father. His actions had been born from admiration, a warrior's way of returning effort with effort, but that wasn't the right approach with Ao at least.

Meanwhile, Koi kept herself busy around the house. Despite her pregnancy, she took over much of Shiro's usual chores. Her bump was still small, her movements only slightly hindered. But the signs of her condition were clear—moments of sudden nausea, slight exhaustion and she was quite hungry, but unlike the day she'd put Shiro firmly in his place, she had mostly remained the gentle, loving mother Ao had always known.

But alas, peace in the Hinoté household was never meant to last.

In the living room, Koi and Shiro stood by the fireplace, as they seemed to be in the middle of a disagreement.

"Shiro, we agreed—if our boy was magically gifted, we'd allow him to attend the academy," Koi insisted. Her tail flicked with agitation, and her ears stood erect. "He could become a spell weaver! He has such potential."

Shiro leaned against the mantle, his arms crossed. "Hun, I know. I haven't forgotten. But Ao wants to learn swordsmanship. That's why we had that duel in the first place." He met her gaze."He should become a spirit knight at least. He's got the spirit for it."

"But that wasn't the deal," Koi countered. "He's a spell weaver, Shiro. You've seen it yourself. The way he manipulates spiritual energy—it's not normal. Not for a child his age. If he goes to the academy, he could learn how to harness that gift properly."

Shiro let out a long sigh, his posture softening. "I get it, Koi. I really do. But we can't just pull him away from learning swordsmanship. You saw how determined he was, let's make him a battle-mage at least. If we force him down one path, we might close the door to another."

Ao, who had been listening from the doorway, tilted his head. His small hands clutched the edge of the door frame, it was rare seeing them have a disagreement, usually if they did either Shiro or Koi would put their differences aside and kiss and role with the others ideas.

Isn't it my life? What if I don't want to be a spell weaver or a battle-mage? Would they… Would they abandon me?

His small feet shuffled forward, he took a breath, trying to make himself seem smaller, more fragile—the way he had learned from his mom that usually always melted her heart, his ultimate trump card.

"Mama… Papa…" he began, his voice soft. "What if I don't want to learn either? Magic or swordsmanship."

Koi and Shiro turned toward him, their expressions shifting from frustration to surprise.

"What if… I want to be something else?" Ao continued, his voice trembling slightly. "You wouldn't leave me, would you?"

Koi's face fell. She knelt down immediately, her arms reaching out and wrapping around him. She held him close, catching Ao completely by surprise.

"Oh, Ao," she whispered. "Of course not. We'd never, ever leave you. We love you so much."

Shiro stepped forward, his normally stern face softened. He crouched beside them, his large hand gently resting on Ao's back. "She's right, kid. Whether you choose the sword, the spell, or something else entirely, we're here for you."

Ao's eyes widen, his small hands clutching at Koi's dress. "Really?"

Koi nodded, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "Really. You don't have to decide now. You don't have to decide ever, if you don't want to."

Shiro chuckled softly, his thumb brushing a smudge of dirt from Ao's cheek. "And hey, if you wanna do both, then we'll figure it out together. You're our son, Ao. Whatever you choose, we'll make sure you're ready."

"O..okay.." Ao let out a small sigh. He hadn't truly believed his parents would abandon him, but the thought lingered at the edges of his mind. Now that they had seen a glimpse of what he was capable of, the balance felt delicate—like one misstep could shift everything.

_____

Once the conversation with his parents had settled, Ao quietly excused himself and retreated to the extra room. The modest space was dimly lit by the fading afternoon sun, dust particles dancing lazily in the light that filtered through the small window. The shelves, lined with a haphazard collection of books, felt like a treasure trove.

Ao's recovery was already complete. Shiro and Koi believed he was still healing, but between his natural demi-human resilience and his use of Respira and Spirit Cycle, his wounds had closed far quicker than they ever could have imagined. His bruises had faded, his joints no longer ached, and even the dull throb in his chin was gone.

But there was a cost. Using his spiritual energy so extensively left him ravenous. His small body demanded more fuel, more sustenance to keep up with the accelerated healing. He had to be careful, feigning weakness, eating only slightly more than usual, just enough to avoid suspicion.

Ao sat cross-legged on the floor, his fingers brushing over the spines of the books on the lowest shelf. He had already read through the Basics of Spiritual Manipulation more times than he could count, yet it had failed to answer his most pressing question.

This is irritating. I've read this book countless times, and it still doesn't explain how to actually manifest an element.

He had learned to control spiritual energy, to mimic the flow of elements around his body, but he had not yet reached the crucial step of conjuring an element. He knew that to create fire, water, earth, or wind, he needed more than just spiritual energy manipulation—he needed to bridge the gap whatever the gap may be between mimicry and manifestation.

But the book remained elusive on that front.

Perhaps my essence isn't ready yet? That's a possibility, maybe it's simply not evolved or strong enough to manifest something like that.

His essence had grown significantly in the past year. From a tiny, candle-like flicker to something closer to the size of a tennis ball. But it still lacked the depth, the density, needed for true elemental magic. It was like trying to light a bonfire with a spark—there was potential, but not enough fuel.

While his mind tried to work through the problem, Ao maintained his Spirit Cycle. It had become second nature, a subconscious rhythm that he performed constantly. Whether he was reading, writing, or even sitting still, he let the cycle of spiritual energy flow through him. It helped refine his essence, slowly stretching its limits and purging negative energy, as long as he was doing a small task that didn't break his focus, he was able to do it. The progress was slow, but it was progress nonetheless.

After finishing another pass through the Basics of Spiritual Manipulation, Ao turned his attention to the other books on the shelf. The selection was limited.

Beast Encyclopedia, World History, Weapon Yearie, Beginner Spirit-Knight Technique Guide, Advanced Spiritual Manipulation Guide.

There are a lot of books... Spirit-knight techniques? He paused. I'll learn that later. I don't want to set my mind on anything just yet. That'll be the last thing I read.

Yet, despite his own intentions, his hand hovered over the Spirit-Knight Technique Guide. The promise of learning new techniques was hard to pass up.

In the end, Ao grabbed both the Spirit-Knight Technique Guide and the Advanced Spiritual Manipulation Guide. He sat back down, the heavy tomes resting on his small lap.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to read a bit... Maybe I'll learn a quick technique or two.