Year X771 —
Location: Rosemary Village
Age: Ren (6) | Erza (6)
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Midsummer in Rosemary Village was loud in a quiet way.
Cicadas sang endlessly from the trees, the sun lingered far too long in the sky, and even the wind felt warm when it brushed against skin. Life slowed—not because people were lazy, but because the heat demanded patience.
Ren discovered this the hard way.
He lay sprawled on the wooden floor of his hut, arms and legs spread wide like a defeated starfish.
"…I'm melting."
Erza stood near the doorway, arms crossed, sword resting against her shoulder.
"…You're dramatic."
"I am liquid," Ren insisted weakly. "If I move, I'll evaporate."
She nudged his foot with her toe.
"…Get up. We're late."
"For what," he groaned.
"…Life."
Ren cracked one eye open.
"…That sounds exhausting."
> [Great Sage: Environmental Assessment — Heat-related lethargy detected. Recommend hydration and reduced training intensity.]
Ren lifted a finger. "See? Even Great Sage says I should rest."
"…You're talking to yourself again."
He sat up with a sigh. "Fineee."
They spent the morning doing light work—delivering bread, carrying water, helping an old woman dry herbs. Nothing dangerous. Nothing urgent.
It felt strange.
> No hunting.
No duels.
Just… living.
Ren found himself smiling without realizing it.
"…You're in a good mood," Erza said as they rested in the shade of a large tree.
Ren shrugged. "It's nice."
"…What is."
"Not fighting something."
She considered that.
"…Yes."
They shared a piece of flatbread, tearing it in half. Ren chewed slowly.
> This is what people are supposed to have.
Normal days.
Later, Ren cooked lunch—simple today. Lentils, vegetables, rice.
"…No meat?" Erza asked.
"Rest day!" Ren declared. "Even warriors need breaks!"
"…I don't."
"You do," he countered, wagging a spoon at her. "Or you'll collapse."
She eyed him skeptically—but ate anyway.
After lunch, the village children gathered near the well. Laughing. Playing.
Ren watched them quietly.
"…You don't play with them," Erza noted.
Ren tilted his head. "…I play with you."
"…That's not the same."
"…I don't know how."
She stared at him.
"…You know how to fight monsters."
"That's easier."
She frowned, then sighed.
"…Come on."
She dragged him toward the group before he could protest.
"HEY—!"
The children paused, staring.
"…Wanna play tag?" one asked hesitantly.
Ren froze.
> Tag…
"…Sure!" he said a little too loudly.
The game started chaotically.
Ren ran fast—too fast—nearly tagging three kids at once.
"HEY THAT'S CHEATING!"
"I'M JUST RUNNING!"
"YOU'RE NOT NORMAL!"
Ren skidded to a stop, embarrassed.
"…Sorry."
Erza grabbed his arm. "…Slow down."
"…Right."
He adjusted—laughed when he tripped, let himself get caught.
For once, no breathing techniques. No calculations.
Just heat, laughter, scraped knees.
Ren found himself laughing too—high, unrestrained, childish.
"…This is fun!" he shouted.
Erza watched him carefully.
> He forgets sometimes.
That he's still a child.
When the game ended, Ren collapsed onto the grass, panting dramatically.
"…I am deceased."
"You say that a lot."
"But this time it's true."
She sat beside him, wiping sweat from her brow.
"…You smiled a lot."
Ren blinked.
"…Did I?"
She nodded.
"…Good."
The afternoon passed lazily.
Ren napped in the shade, Great Sage unusually quiet.
> Even you can rest, he thought.
As evening approached, villagers gathered for a small midsummer meal. Nothing fancy—just shared food, music, quiet conversation.
Ren helped cook, of course.
"…You never stop," Erza muttered.
"I like feeding people!"
She watched him stir the pot, focused but content.
> He's different now.
Not scared. Not lonely.
They ate together, sitting on the grass.
"…Ren," Erza said suddenly.
"…Yeah?"
"…Do you ever think about leaving?"
Ren paused mid-bite.
> Leaving…
"…Someday," he admitted. "Not yet."
She nodded slowly.
"…Me neither."
The sun dipped low, sky painted orange and gold.
Ren leaned back, hands behind his head.
"…Hey, Erza."
"…What."
"…Thanks."
She blinked. "…For what."
"…For pulling me outside."
She looked away. "…You would've rotted."
"Probably."
They sat in comfortable silence.
> [Great Sage: Emotional Stability — High. Subject exhibits healthy social engagement.]
Ren smiled softly.
> This is good.
This is enough.
Night fell gently.
Crickets replaced cicadas. Lanterns flickered on.
Ren stood, stretching.
"…Tomorrow," he said brightly, "we train again!"
Erza smirked. "…Of course."
"But today," he added, grinning wide, "was perfect."
She watched him for a moment—then nodded.
"…Yes."
Under the midsummer sky, nothing dramatic happened.
No enemies.
No fate-shattering moments.
Just two children, growing stronger—
—not just in body, but in heart.
And sometimes, that was the most important progress of all.
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End of Chapter 17 ☀️🌙