Tuesday 15 December 2000.
Renkonan Household Japan.
Zaboru had just returned from the USA last night, and now he was finally back at his home in Japan, taking a rare moment to slow down from his usually relentless schedule. Today was special—not because of business, not because of some major announcement, but because he and his family were going to celebrate his birthday. It was his 26th birthday, and unlike the scale of his influence in the world, the celebration itself was intentionally simple. The house was decorated with only the usual birthday decorations—nothing extravagant, no excessive displays, just warm and familiar touches that made the space feel comfortable and personal. There were no famous guests, no industry figures, no business partners. Instead, it was kept purely intimate, with only him and his family present, creating an atmosphere that felt far more meaningful than any grand event could ever be.
Ayumi carefully brought the cake toward Zaboru, a warm smile on her face. The cake was simple but beautifully made, with a small "26" candle placed neatly on top. The soft glow of the candlelight reflected in Zaboru's eyes as he looked at it for a moment, a faint grin forming on his face. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and blew out the candle in one breath, and immediately the room filled with cheerful voices. "Happy Birthday, Zaboru!" everyone said together, their tone filled with warmth and sincerity.
Zaboru let out a quiet chuckle, clearly enjoying the moment more than he expected. There was no pressure, no expectations—just genuine happiness shared with the people closest to him. After that, the celebration continued naturally. They began eating the delicious food that had been prepared, talking casually, laughing at small things, and occasionally stopping to snap pictures together. The atmosphere was lively yet comfortable, filled with simple joy, as if time itself slowed down just for this moment.
Then after that, everyone began giving Zaboru their presents, starting with his mom. She handed him a neatly wrapped package, and inside was a new shirt—simple, but stylish and clearly chosen with care. Zaboru smiled as he looked at it, running his hand over the fabric, appreciating not just the design but the thought behind it. In truth, he almost never bought clothes for himself despite his wealth; it was always his mother or Ayumi who took the time to pick things out for him. He didn't really care about fashion or appearance, but moments like this reminded him that these small details mattered to the people who loved him, and that alone made the gift feel far more valuable than anything money could buy.
Then his father, Zanichi, stepped forward with a small box and handed Zaboru a pair of stylish glasses. With a proud grin, he said, "Real men wear glasses," in his usual half-serious, half-joking tone. Zaboru chuckled at that, putting them on for a moment and adjusting them slightly, appreciating not only how they looked but also the thought behind the gift—something practical, something personal, something that came from his father's quiet understanding of him. "Thanks, Dad," he said sincerely, giving a small nod of appreciation.
Not long after, his little sister Sanika excitedly stepped in, holding her gift with both hands. She had chosen a perfume by herself, clearly putting effort into finding something she thought would suit him. Zaboru opened it and took a light sniff, and to his surprise, it was actually quite good—clean, balanced, and not overpowering. He smiled, genuinely pleased. "You picked this yourself?" he asked, and when Sanika nodded proudly, his smile widened. "It's really nice. I like it." For Sanika, that simple approval meant everything, and for Zaboru, it was another small but meaningful reminder that these gifts weren't about value—they were about the people giving them.
As for Ayumi, she gave her husband a new pair of shoes—running shoes, carefully chosen with both comfort and practicality in mind. Zaboru's current running shoes were already worn out and visibly dirty, something he had completely ignored despite his wealth, as he never paid much attention to things like clothing or appearance. For him, as long as something worked, that was enough. But Ayumi had noticed, as she always did, quietly taking note of the small things he overlooked. When Zaboru opened the box and saw the shoes, he smiled immediately, a genuine and warm expression that didn't need many words. He picked them up, feeling the quality, understanding the thought behind the gift. To others, it might just be a simple pair of shoes—but to him, it was something chosen by his wife, something that showed care in a way he often forgot to give himself. "Thanks, Ayumi," he said softly, clearly happy, not just because of the shoes, but because it came from her.
While his small daughter Arumi stepped forward, she carefully handed Zaboru a small bracelet, proudly saying that she had made it by herself. The bracelet was simple—colorful threads woven together a bit unevenly—but it carried a kind of charm that no expensive item could ever match. Zaboru's expression softened immediately as he took it, clearly moved by the effort she had put into it. He looked at Arumi, seeing the excitement and slight nervousness in her eyes, and his heart warmed. "You made this for me?" he asked gently, and when she nodded with a bright smile, his own smile widened. Without hesitation, he put the bracelet on his wrist, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "It's perfect," he said sincerely. In that moment, it wasn't just a gift—it was something far more meaningful, and Zaboru couldn't have been more proud of his daughter.
Then it was time for his son, Zenshin, who was now a little over three years old. The boy stood there fidgeting, clearly nervous yet excited, holding something in his small hands as he tried to gather the courage to step forward and give his father his birthday present. His eyes occasionally glanced at Zaboru, then back at the gift, as if he was worried whether it would be good enough. Seeing this, his mom gently encouraged him with a warm smile.
"Go on, Zen-chan, show what you've made for your father," she said softly. Zenshin blushed, his cheeks turning slightly red, but he nodded and finally stepped forward. He carefully handed the present to Zaboru. It was wrapped neatly, though not perfectly, and from the shape it looked like a book. That alone already sparked Zaboru's curiosity.
"Hmm? Zen-chan, what is this?" Zaboru asked with a gentle tone, clearly intrigued. He glanced at his son, who nodded shyly in response. "Alright, I'll open it, okay?" Zaboru added, smiling warmly to reassure him. Zenshin nodded again, watching closely as Zaboru slowly unwrapped the package. His small hands clenched slightly, anticipation and nervousness mixing together. Then, as the wrapping came off and Zaboru saw what was inside… he was genuinely surprised.
"Whoa, Zen-chan…? This is your work?" Zaboru asked, clearly stunned as he flipped through the pages. It wasn't just a simple drawing—it was a full manga. The pages showed a masked superhero wearing a cape, striking dynamic poses, with action scenes that actually flowed from one panel to another. The title written on the cover read "Shin-Man," and surprisingly, the art style had a strong sense of direction, almost like something created by someone far older. Zaboru blinked once, then twice, genuinely trying to process what he was seeing. Meanwhile, Zenshin stood there blushing, nodding shyly but unable to hide the small pride in his expression.
"Yes, papa… I made a manga," Zenshin said, his voice soft but carrying a hint of confidence. "I asked mom to help me put it together… and this is for you." His words were simple, but the effort behind them was undeniable. Zaboru looked back at the pages, noticing small details—the way the panels were arranged, the consistency in the character design, even the attempt at storytelling. It wasn't perfect, but it had heart… and more importantly, it had potential.
Zaboru couldn't help but grin, a genuine, proud smile spreading across his face. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled Zenshin into a hug, embracing his small body gently but firmly. "Thank you, my son… I really like it. I'll read it properly later," he said warmly. Zenshin nodded, his earlier nervousness fading into happiness as he relaxed in his father's arms.
Around them, the atmosphere softened even more, the family watching with smiles as the moment naturally blended back into the celebration. Soon after, the birthday party continued, filled with laughter, small conversations, and the quiet joy of being together.
Then later that night, after the birthday celebration had fully concluded and the house had grown quiet again, Zaboru leaned back against the headboard of his bed, finally allowing himself a moment of rest. Ayumi was beside him, relaxed and close, her presence warm and familiar. Zenshin and Arumi had already gone to their own rooms, the excitement of the day slowly fading into a calm silence that settled over the house. The decorations remained here and there, small reminders of the earlier joy, but now everything felt peaceful.
Zaboru held the manga in his hands, his gaze resting on the cover for a moment longer than expected.
He leaned his head slightly back, exhaling quietly as he continued to look at the cover, a faint, thoughtful smile forming on his face.
No matter how anyone tried to look at it, if a normal person were told that this kind of manga was created by a three-year-old, no one would believe it. It simply didn't match expectations—whether in structure, panel flow, or even the consistency of the art. And yet, here it was in Zaboru's hands, undeniable proof that his own son, still so young, had already created something that didn't fall short when compared to what professional mangaka could produce at a advance level. It wasn't perfect, but it had clarity, intention, and a surprising sense of direction that most beginners—let alone children—couldn't replicate.
Zaboru slowly opened the book again, this time with more focus, his eyes scanning the pages more carefully. "Zen-chan is really something else, huh… I'm proud of him," he said softly, the pride in his voice impossible to hide. Ayumi lazily wrapped her arms around his arm, resting her head lightly against his shoulder with a gentle smile. "Hehehe… our son is amazing, isn't he?" she replied warmly. Zaboru nodded in agreement, his expression calm but filled with quiet happiness, before turning another page and beginning to read the manga properly, giving it the attention it truly deserved.
The story itself was simple, but it carried a clear structure and intent. It followed Shintaro Yamada, an ordinary young man who encountered mysterious aliens and was subjected to strange experiments. Because of that, he gained the ability to transform into Shin-Man, a masked hero with an armored, knight-like appearance. From there, the story unfolded into a series of confrontations where he fought against the very aliens that changed him, protecting others while trying to understand his own condition. The overall concept was reminiscent of Kamen Rider, but even so, there were small differences in how Zenshin approached the idea—his own twists, his own imagination shaping the flow of events.
Zenshin had always loved Kamen Rider, and it was clear that this was his way of creating something of his own inspired by it. Yet what surprised Zaboru wasn't just the influence—it was how naturally it came together. The panel flow, the sense of movement, even the basic storytelling beats… they all worked. The art style, while still rough in places, had surprising consistency and energy, making the action feel alive on the page. Zaboru found himself turning page after page without realizing it, quickly finishing the whole thing. And when he did, he paused for a moment, holding the book with a small smile. It honestly wasn't bad—far from it. In fact, he enjoyed it more than he expected, especially knowing that this was the work of his own son.
"We should let Hakushensha publish it to the public," Ayumi said with a soft chuckle, her eyes still on the pages. Zaboru smiled at the idea, then tilted his head slightly. "Hmm… maybe. But let's ask the author first, okay?" Ayumi nodded, amused. "Of course. And for now, Zen-chan doesn't want it published yet. He said this one is only for you." Zaboru's grin widened at that, a quiet pride settling in his chest. "Heh… somehow that makes me even happier," he said. "Alright, we'll ask him tomorrow. If he wants it to stay just between us for now, we'll respect that."
Ayumi shifted closer, resting against him as she let out a small yawn. "Zabo… I'm getting sleepy. I'll sleep first, okay?" Zaboru chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face before kissing her forehead. "Go ahead," he murmured. He pulled her into a gentle embrace, feeling her relax almost instantly, her breathing slowing as she drifted off. The room grew quiet again, filled only with the soft rhythm of the night.
Zaboru glanced once more at the manga resting on his lap, then set it carefully on the bedside table, as if it were something precious. He lay back, still holding Ayumi close, a faint, contented smile on his face. It wasn't a grand celebration, and it didn't need to be. Surrounded by his family, with small moments like these, his birthday felt complete in a way nothing else could match. As his eyes slowly closed, sleep came naturally, carrying with it a quiet sense of happiness that lingered long after the day had ended.
To be continue
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